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LWDISFAEN  CHASE. 


^  Nooel. 


BY 


T.  ADOLPHUS  TROLLOPE. 


NEW    YORK: 
HARPER    &    BROT  PIERS,    PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN    SQUARE. 
1864. 


LINDISFABN     CHASE 


TROLLOPE. 


CHAPTER   I. 
SILVEUTON   AND   ITS   ENVIRONS. 

X  DOUKT  much  whether  I  could  invent  a 
fiction  that  should  be  more  interesting  to  my 
readers  than  the  authentic  bit  of  family  his- 
tory 1  am  about  to  offer  them.  The  facts 
happened,  and  the  actors  in  them  were,  with 
very  little  difference,  such  as  they  will  be 
represented  in  the  following  pages.  But  al- 
though nearly  half  a  century  has  passed  since 
the  circumstances  occurred,  it  has  been  ne- 
cessary, in  order  to  justify  the  publication  of 
them,  to  make  such  changes  in  names  and 
localities  as  should  obviate  the  possibility  of 
causing  annoyance  or  offence  to  individuals 
still  living.  The  episcopal  city  in,  and  in  the 
neigh1)orhood  of,  which  the  events  really  took 
place,  shall  therefore  be  called  Silverton ; 
and  it  shall  be  placed  in  one  of  our  south- 
westermost  counties,  where  no  search  among 
the  county  families  will,  it  may  be  safely  as- 
serted, enable  any  too  curious  reader  to  iden- 
tify the  real  personages  of  the  history. 

The  ancient  and  episcopal  city  of  Silverton 
is  one  of  the  most  beautifully  situated  towns 
in  England.  Seated  in  the  midst  of  a  wide 
valley  on  the  banks  of  a  river,  which  about  a 
mile  below  the  town  becomes  tidal,  and  three 
miles  further  reaches  the  sea,  its  environs 
comprise  almost  every  variety  of  English 
scenery.  The  flat  bottom  of  the  valley  is  oc- 
cupied with  water-meads,  rendered  passable 
to  those  acquainted  with  the  locality  and  im- 
passable to  strangers,  by  a  labyrinthine  system 
of  streams  and  paths  diversified  by  an  infinity 
of  sluices,  miniature  locks,  and  bridges  re- 
movable at  pleasure  after  the  fashion  of  draw- 
bridges. The  town  itself,  with  the  exception 
of  the  physically  and  morally  low  parts  of  it 
lying  immediately  in  the  vicinity  of  the  bridge 
over  the  river  Sill,  is  built  on  a  slight  eleva- 
tion sufficient  to  raise  it  above  the  damp  level 
of  the  water-meadows.  The  highest  point  of 
this  eminence  was  once  entirely  occupied  by 
the  extensive  buildings  of  Silverton  Castle. 
Now  the  picturesque  ivy-grown  keep  only  re- 
mains ;  and  the  rest  of  the  space  backed  by 


the  high  city  wall,  which  on  that  side  of  tl;c 
city  hafs  been  preserved,  forms  the  admirably 
kept  and  much  admired  garden  of  Robert 
Falconer,  Esq.,  the  senior  partner  of  the  firm 
of  Falconer  and  Fishbourne,  the  wealthy, 
long  established,  and  much  respected  bankers 
of  Silverton. 

On  ground  immediately  below  the  site  of 
the  old  castle,  and  sufficiently  lower  for  the 
two  buildings  to  group  most  admirably  to- 
gether, stands  the  grand  old  Cathedral,,  with 
its  two  massive  towers,  one  at  either  angle 
of  the  west  front,  wliich  looks  toward  the  de- 
clivity and  the  valley.  The  space  between 
the  Cathedral  and  the  site  of  the  castle  is  oc- 
cupied by  that  inmost  sanctuary  and  pjrivi- 
leged  spot  of  a  cathedral  city,  the  Close.  The 
old  city  is  not  in  any  part  of  it  a  noisy  one. 
For  though  it  was  formerly  the  seat  of  a  pros- 
perous cloth  trade  and  manufacture,  com- 
merce and  industry  have  long  since  deserted 
it,  preferring,  for  their  modern  requirements, 
coal  measures  to  water-meadows.  But  a  still 
deeper  quietude  broods  over  the  Close.  The 
beautifully  kept  gravel  walk — it  is  more  like 
a  garden  walk  than  a  road — which  wanders 
among  exquisitely  shaven  lawns,  from  one 
rose-covered  porch  to  another  of  the  irregu- 
larly placed  prebendal  houses,  is  rarely  cut 
lip  by  wheels.  The  Deanery  gardens,  and 
those  of  two  or  three  other  of  the  prebendal 
residences  run  up  to  a  remaining  fragment  of 
the  old  city  wall  to  the  right  hand  of  the  cas- 
tle-keep, as  those  of  Mr.  Falconer,  the  banker, 
do  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  ancient  tower, 
supposing  the  person  looking  at  them  to  stand 
facing  the  west  front  of  the  Cathedral. 

It  is  a  pleasant  spot  to  stand  on,  and  a  pleas- 
ant view  to  face  ; — it  was  so  forty  years  ago, 
and  I  suppose  it  still  is  so,  despite  the  cut- 
ting down  of  canonries,  and  other  ravages 
of  the  Ecclesiastical  Commissioners.  If  one 
stood  not  quite  opposite  the  centre  of  the  west 
front  of  the  church,  but  sufficiently  to  the  left 
of  that  point  to  catch  a  view  of  the  southern 
side  of  the  long  nave,  and  the  southern  tran- 
sept with  its  round-headed  Saxon  windows 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


and  arches, — for  that  part  of  the  building  be- 
longed to  an  earlier  period  than  the  nave  ; — 
of  tlie  mouldering  and  ivy-grown,  but  still 
sturdy-looking  and  lofty  keep  of  the  old  castle 
on  tlie  higher  ground  behind; — of  the  frag- 
ments of  city  wall  to  the  right  and  left,  coy- 
ered  with  the  roses  and  other  creeping  plants 
of  the  banker's  garden  on  the  one  side,  and  of 
those  of  the  cathedral  dignitaries  on  the  other  ; 
— of  the  noble  woods  of  Lindisfai-n  Chase  on  the 
gentle  swell  of  the  hill,  which  shut  in  the  ho- 
rizon in  that  direction  at  a  distance  of  some 
seven  or  eight  miles  from  the  city  ; — and  of 
the  sleepy,  quiet  Close  in  the  immediate  fore- 
ground, with  its  low-roofed,  but  substantial, 
roomy,  and  exceedingly  comfortable  gray  stone 
houses  showing  with  so  admirably  pictui'esque 
an  effect  on  the  brilliant  green  of  the  shaven 
lawns,  Avhich  run  close  up  to  the  walls  of 
them  ; — if  one  stood,  I  say,  so  as  to  command 
this  prospect,  one  would  be  apt  to  linger 
tJiere  awhile. 

Suppose  the  hour  to  be  ten  a.m.  on  a  Sep- 
tember morning.  The  last  bell  is  ringing  for 
morning  service.  Dr.  Lindisfarn,  in  surplice, 
hood,  and  trencher-cap,  is  placidly  sauntering 
across  the  Close  from  his  house,  next  to  the 
Deanery,  with  a  step  that  seems  regulated  by 
the  chime  of  the  bell,  to  take  his  place  as  canon 
in  residence  at  the  morning  service.  Dr. 
Theophilus  Lindisfarn,  Senior  Canon,  is,  liter- 
ally if  not  ecclesiastically  speaking,  always  in 
residence.  For  he  loves  Silver  ton  Close  bet- 
ter than  any  other  spot  of  earth's  surllice ; 
and  keeps  a  curate  on  his  living  of  Chewton 
in  the  Moor,  some  fifteen  miles  from  the  city. 
Dr.  Lindisfarn,  stepping  across  to  morning 
service,  pauses  an  instant,  as  he  observes  with 
a  slight  frown  an  insolently  tall  dandelion 
growing  in  the  Close  lawn  ;  and  makes  a  mem . 
in  his  mind  to  tell  the  gardener  that  the  Chap- 
ter cannot  tolerate  such  slovenly  gardening,  j 
A  little  troop  of  choristers  in  surplices  and 
untasselled  trencher-caps,  headed  by  old  Peter 
Glenny,  the  organist,  are  coming  round  the 
northern  corner  of  the  west  front  from  the 
schoolroom.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Thorburn,  the 
Minor  Canon,  who  has  to  chant  the  service, 
is  not  yet  in  sight ;  for  lie  was  officiating  as 
president  of  a  glee  club  till  not  the  smallest 
of  the  small  hours  last  night,  and  being  rather 
late  this  morning  is  now  coming  up  the  hill  { 
from  the  lower  part  of  the  town,  at  a  speed  i 
which  will  just  suffice  to  bring  him  to  his 
place  in   the  choir  in  time  to  dash  off  with  I 


j  "  Enter  not  into  judgment  with  thy  servant, 
j  0  Lord,"  at  the  exact  instant  that  the  bell 
I  sounds  its  last  note,  and  Dr.  Lindisfarn  at  the 
:  same  moment  raises  his  benignant  face  from 
I  the  trencher-cap  in  which  he  has  for  a  mo- 
ment hidden  it,  on  entering  his  stall,  moving 
as  he  did  so  with  a  sort  of  suant,  mechanical, 
yet  not  ungraceful  action,  which  seemed  to 
i  combine  a  bow  to  the  assembled  congregation 
with  a  meditative  prayer  condensed  into  the 
briefest  possible  time.  The  rooks  are  cawing 
their  morning  service  the  while  in  the  high 
trees  behind  Mr.  Falconer's  house,  a  large 
mansion  more  modern  and  less  picturesque 
than  the  canons'  houses,  a  little  behind  and 
to  the  left  of  the  spot  where  I  have  supposed 
the  contemplator  of  this  peaceful  scene  to  take 
his  stand.  The  morning  sun  is  gilding  and 
lighting  up  the  distant  Lindisfarn  woods  ;  a 
white  mist  is  lying  on  the  water-meads  ;  and 
a  gentle,  drowsy  hum  ascending  from  the 
lower  districts  of  the  city.  The  sights  and 
sounds  that  caress  the  eye  and  ear  are  all 
suggestive  of  peacefulness  and  beauty ;  and 
are  poetized  by  a  flavor  of  association  which 
imparts  an  infinite  charm  to  the  scene. 

And  there  were  no  heretic  bishops  or  free- 
thinking  professors  in  those  days  throughout 
all  the  land.  There  was  no  Broad  Church  ; 
and  "earnestness"  had  not  been  invented. 
It  was  a  mighty  pleasant  time ;  at  least,  it 
was  so  inside  Cathedral  Closes.  Dissenters 
were  comparatively  few  anywhere,  and  espe- 
cially in  such  places  as  Silverton.  They  were 
understood  to  be  low  and  noxious  persons, 
with  greasy  faces  and  lank  hair  who,  in  a 
general  way,  preferred  evil  to  good.  It  was 
said  that  there  were  some  few  of  these 
Pariahs  in  the  low  part  of  the  town  ;  and 
even  that  they  met  for  their  unhallowed  wor- 
ship in  some  back  lane,  under  the  ministry 
of  a  much  persecuted  and  almost  outlawed 
shoemaker.  But,  of  course,  none  of  these 
persons  ever  ventured  to  sully  the  purity  of 
the  Close  with  their  presence.  The  hercsiarch 
cobbler  felt  himself  to  be  guilty,  and  slunk 
by  like  a  whipped  hound,  if  he  met  any  one 
of  the  cathedral  dignitaries  in  the  street. 
Tlie  latter,  of  course,  ignored  the  existence  of 
any  such  obscure  and  hateful  sectarians  ;  al- 
though it  was  said  that  more  than  one  denizen 
of  the  Close  had  been  known  to  listen,  though 
under  protest,  to  a  story  that  Peter  Glenny 
had  of  a  scapegrace  nephew  of  his  having 
once  entered  the  conventicle  in  the  lower 


LINDISFARN    CHASE, 


town,  and  having  then  found  the  impious  j  of  the  city,  wliich,  however  charminn-  they 
wretches  singing  hymns  to  a  hornpipe  tunc  !  '■  may  be  as  residences  to  the  dwellers  in  them, 
were  guilty  of  ]  do  not  add  to  the  beauty  of  the  place.  One 
of  these  more  especially  has  caused  the  de- 


The  base  creatures,  who 
such  enormities,  were  too  few  and  too  ob- 
scure to  cause  any  trouble  or  scandal  in  tlie 
dignified  church-loving  Silvcrton  society.  If 
a  bishop  did  endow  a  favorite  son  or  son-in- 
law  with  an  accumulation  of  somewhat  in- 
compatible preferments,  if  a  reverend  canon 
did  absent  himself  for  a  year  or  two  together 
from  Silvcrton,  or  hold  preferment  with  his 
canonry  not  strictly  tenable  with  it,  leave 
some  of  the  little  churches  in  the  city  un- 
served some  Sunday  evening,  because  he  was 
engaged  to  a  dinner-party  in  the  country,  or 
indulge  in  a  habit  of  playing  whist  deep  into 
Sunday  morning ;  or  if  a  Minor  Canon  locrc 
found  hearing  the  chimes  at  midnight  else- 
where than  in  his  study  or  his  bed,  or  did 
chance  to  get  into  trouble  about  sporting 
without  a  license,  or  did  stroll  into  his  coun- 
try church  to  take  some  odds  or  ends  of  sur- 
plice duty  in  his  shooting  gaiters,  while  he  left 
his  dog  and  gun  in  the  vestry,— why,  there 
was  no  "  chiel  amang  them  "  to  take  invidi- 
ous note  of  these  things,  much  less  to  dream 
of  printing  them  !  In  short,  the  time  of  which 
I  have  been  speaking,  and  am  about  to  speak, 
was  that  good  old  time,  which  Jious  autrcs 
who  are  sur  la  rdour  remember  so  well ;  and 
which  was  so  pleasant  that  it  is  quite  sad  to 
think  that  it  should  have  been  found  out  to  be 
80  naughty ! 

It  would  seem  nevertheless  that  there  had 
been  still  better  times  at  a  yet  more  remote 
period.  For  there  were,  even  forty  years 
ago,  individuals  in  the  Silvcrton  woi'Id,  who 
looked  with  regret  at  the  march  of  progress, 
which  had  even  then  commenced.  And  old 
Dennis  Wyvill,  the  verger,  who  was  upwards 
of  eighty  years  old,  used  to  complain  much 
of  a  new-fangled  order  of  the  Chapter  that 
the  litany  eJiould  be  chanted,  declaring  that 
in  good  Dane  Burder's  days  morning  service 
was  over,  and  all  said,  and  the  door  locked 
afore  eleven  o'clock.  But  thus  it  is  !  "  JEtas 
'parentum,''''  says  the  poet  in  the  same  mind 
with  old  Dennis  Wyvill,  the  verger,  "  JEtas 
•parentum  pejor  avis  iulit  nos  ncquiores,  max 
daturos  progenicm  vitiosiorcm." 

The  progress  of  time  has  not  quite  spared 
either  the  material  beauty  of  Silvcrton  or  its 
environs.  One  or  two  rows  of  "  semi-de- 
tached villa  residences,"  have  made  their  ap- 
poarence  in  different  parts  of  the  outskirts 


struction  of  a  clump  of  elm-trees,  which  for- 
merly stood  near  the  spot  where  the  frag- 
ment of  city  wall  that  bounds  Mr.  Falconer's 
garden— or,  rather,  that  which  was  his  at 
the  date  of  this  history— comes  to  an  end, 
and  which  filled  most  charmingly  to  the  eye 
the  break  in  the  landscape  between  that  ob- 
ject and  the  grass-green  water-meads  bcloAv  ; 
and  has  thus  done  irreparable  injury  to  dear 
old  Silvcrton.  For  the  rest,  the  city  and  its 
surrounding  country  are  much  as  they  used 
to  be.  The  woods  of  Lindisflirn  Chase  beyond 
and,  as  one  may  say,  behind  the  town,  sup- 
posing it  to  face  toward  the  valley  of  the  Sill, 
are  as  rich  in  verdure  and  as  beautiful  as 
ever.  The  less  thickly,  but  still  well-wooded 
parklike  scenery  of  Wanstrow  Manor,  the  res- 
idence, forty  years  ago,  of  the  Dowager  Lady 
Farnleigh,  is  unchanged  on  the  more  gradu- 
ally rising  opposite  bank  of  the  river.  The 
quaintly  picturesque  view  of  the  water-mead- 
ows up  the  stream,  closed  at  the  turn  of  it 
westward  about  two  miles  above  Silvcrton  • 
bridge  by  the  village  and  village  church  of 
Weston  Friary,  is  unaltered.  In  the  opposite 
direction  below  the  bridge,  the  population 
has  somewhat  increased ;  and  the  houses, 
most  of  them  of  a  poor  description,  arc  more 
numerous  than  of  yore.  And  the  new  cot- 
tages, although  somewhat  more  fitted  for  de- 
cent human  habitation  than  the  old  ones,  are 
less  picturesque.  Modern  squalor  and  pov- 
erty are  especially  unsightly.  It  is  as  if  the 
ill  qualities  of  the  old  and  the  new  had  been 
selected  and  combined  to  the  exclusion  of  the 
redeeming  qualities  of  eithec 

Further  from  the  city  the  aspect  of  the 
country  is  naturally  still  more  unchanged. 
The  rich  and  brilliantly  green  meadows  and 
pasture  lands  in  the  lower  grounds ;  the 
coppice-circled  fields  of  tillage  of  the  upland 
farms,  the  red  soil  of  which  contrasts  so  beau- 
tifully with  the  greenery  of  the  woodlands  ; 
the  gradually  increasing  wildness  and  un- 
evenness  of  the  country,  as  it  recedes  from 
the  valley  of  the  Sill,  and  approaches  the 
higher  ground  of  Lindisfarn  Chase  on  the 
Silvcrton  side  of  the  stream  ;  and  the  curi- 
ously sudden  and  definitely  marked  line, 
which  separates  the  Wanstrow  Manor  farms 
from  the  wide  extent  of   moorland   which 


b  LINDISFARN 

Btrctches  away,  many  a  mile  to  the  north- 
■ward  and  along  the  coast,  on  the  opposite  or 
left-hand  side  of  the  little  river  ;  all  this,  of 
course,  is  as  it  was 
very  beautiful. 


CHASE. 


CHAPTER    II. 
AT  WESTON   FRIARY. 

There  were  two  roads  open  to  the  choice 
of  any  one  wishing  to  go  from  Wanstrow 
Manor  to  Lindisfarn  Chase.  The  most  direct 
crossed  the  Sill  by  Silvcrton  bridge  and  passed 
through  that  city.  The  distance  by  this  road 
was  little  more  than  eight  miles.  But  the 
plcasanter  way,  either  for  riding  or  walking, 
was  to  cross  the  river  at  Weston  Friary,  and 
thus  avoiding  the  city  altogether,  and  reach- 
ing the  wilder  and  more  open  district  of  the 
Chase,  almost  immediately  after  quitting  the 
valley  at  Weston,  so  as  to  make  the  greatest 
part  of  the  distance  by  the  green  lanes  and 
unenclosed  commons  which  at  that  point  oc- 
cupied most  of  the  space  between  the  lowlands 
of  the  valley  and  Lindisfarn  woods.  The  dis- 
tance by  this  route  was  a  good  ten  miles,  how- 
ever. The  highest  part  of  the  ground  of  the 
Chase,  which  shut  in  the  horizon  to  the  west- 
ward behind  Silverton,  has  been  mentioned  as 
being  about  seven  or 'eight  miles  from  the 
city.  But  the  fine  old  house,  which  took  its 
name  from  tlie  Chase,  was  not  so  far.  Nor 
was  it  visible  from  the  town.  A  little  brawl- 
ing stream  called  Lindisfarn  Brook  ran  hiding 
itself  at  the  bottom  of  a  narrow  ravine  be- 
tween Silverton  and  the  Lindisfarn  woods, 
and  fell  into  the  Sill  a  mile  or  two  above 
Weston  Friary.  This  little  valley  and  its 
brook  were  about  three  miles  from  the  city, 
and  four  or  five  from  the  wood-covered  sum- 
mit above  mentioned.  The  ground  fell  from 
this  latter  in  a  gentle  slope  all  the  way  down 
to  the  brook,  with  the  exception  of  the  last 
two  or  three  hundred  feet,  the  sudden  and 
almost  precipitous  dip  of  which  gave  the  val- 
ley the  character  of  a  ravine.  The  house  was 
situated  about  half-way  down  this  gentle  de- 
clivity,— about  two  and  a  half  miles  from  the 
top,  that  is, — and  as  much  from  the  brook, 
which  was  crossed  by  a  charming  little  ivy- 
grown  bridge  high  above  the  stream,  carry- 
ing the  carriage  road  from  Silverton  to 
Lindisfarn.  The  same  little  brook  had  to  be 
crossed  by  those  who  took  the  longer  way 
from  Wansti-ow,  and  by  those  who  came  from 
Weston  Friary  to  tlie  Chase ;  and  for  foot- 


passengers,  there  was  a  plank  and  rail  across 
the  stream.  Those  travelling  this  route  on 
horseback,  however,  had  to  ford  the  Lindis- 
farn Brook  ;  and  in  sloppy  weather  the  banks 
were  apt  to  be  very  soft  and  rotten,  insomuch 
that  many  a  pound  of  mud  from  the  Lindis- 
farn Brook  ford  had  been  brushed  from  be- 
draggled riding-habits  in  the  servants'  halls 
of  the  Chase  and  the  IManor ;  for  the  in- 
tercourse between  these  two  mansions  was 
very  frequent,  and  the  ride  by  Weston  Friary, 
as  has  been  said,  was,  especially  to  practised 
riders,  the  plcasanter. 

Indeed,  for  those  who  like  open  country,  and 
have  no  objection  to  a  little  mud  and  a  mod- 
erate jump  or  two,  there  could  not  be  a  bettei 
country  for  a  ride  than  all  this  part  of  the 
Lindisfarn  Chase  property.  In  the  driest 
weather  the  turf  of  the  lanes  and  commons 
was  rarely  too  hard,  but  in  wet  weather  it 
was  certainly  somewhat  too  soft.  This  was 
most  the  case  on  the  Weston  Friary  side  of 
the  Lindisfarn  Brook.  On  the  other  side  the 
ground  rose  toward  the  Chase  more  rapidly, 
and,  as  the  higher  land  was  reached,  became 
naturally  drier.  But  though  there  was  a 
slight  rise  from  the  ford  on  the  other  side, 
sufficient  to  cause  the  brook  to  seek  its  waj 
into  the  river  Sill  a  mile  or  two  further  up 
the  stream  instead  of  falling  into  it  at  the 
villoge  of  Weston,  this  elevation  of  the  ground 
between  the  valley  of  Lindisfarn  Brook  and 
the  water-mead  around  the  village,  was  not 
sufficient  at  that  point  to  prevent  all  the  in- 
tervening land  from  being  of  a  very  wet  and 
soft  description.  If  I  have  succeeded  in 
making  the  topography  of  the  environs  of 
Silverton  at  all  clear  to  the  reader,  it  will  be 
understood  that  this  same  swell  of  the  ground, 
which  between  Weston  and  the  ford  over  the 
brook  of  Lindisfarn  was  a  mere  tongue  of 
marshy  soil,  rose  gradually  but  rather  rapidly 
in  the  direction  down  the  Sill,  till  it  formed 
the  comparatively  high  ground,  on  which 
Silverton  was  built,  and  from  which  the 
Lindisfarn  woods  could  be  seen  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  valley  of  the  brook,  which  had 
there  become  a  deep  ravine,  as  has  been  de- 
scribed. A  good  country  road,  coming  from 
the  interior  of  the  country  along  the  valley 
of  the  Sill,  passed  through  the  village  of  Wes- 
ton Friary  on  its  course  to  Silverton,  finding 
its  way  along  the  edge  of  the  water-meadows, 
and  making  in  that  direction  also  a  singularly 
pretty  ride.     This  road,  having  crossed  the 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


mouth  of  the  brook  by  a  bridge  called  Paul- 
ton's  Bridge,  nearly  two  miles  above  Weston, 
held  its  way  along  the  tongue  of  low  land 
which  has  been  described,  keeping  close  to 
the  bank  of  the  river.  Just  above  Weston, 
this  space  between  the  two  streams  was  not 
above  half  a  mile  in  width,  and  it  was  all  open 
common,  divided  off  from  the  road  however 
at  that  point,  by  a  low,  timber  fence,  con- 
sisting of  two  rails  only,  which,  traced  at  a 
period  when  such  land  was  of  small  value, 
left  a  wide  margin  of  turf  along  the  road- 
side. 

About  the  same  hour  of  that  same  beauti- 
ful September  morning,  at  which  the  reader 
has  had  a  glimpse  of  Dr.  Lindisfarn  on  his 
way  to  morning  service  at  the  cathedral, — a 
little  later  perhaps  ;  but  even  if  it  had  still 
been  Dane  Burder's  time,  the  service  could 
not  be  yet  over, — an  old  laborer  paused  in  his 
loitering  walk  along  the  road  toward  Silver- 
ton,  to  look  at  two  ladies  on  horseback  com- 
ing at  full  gallop  across  the  common,  followed 
at  some  little  distance  by  a  groom. 

"  Now  for  a  jump  !  "  said  the  old  man,  as 
he  stood  to  look  ;  "  there  ben't  another  in  all 
the  country  has  such  a  seat  on  a  horse  as  my 
lady  have  !  And  !Miss  Kate,  she's  just  such 
another ! ' ' 

And  as  he  spoke,  the  two  ladies  came 
lightly  over  the  low  rail  on  to  the  turf  by  the 
roadside,  the  younger  of  the  two  giving  a 
playful  imitation  of  a  view  hallo,  as  she 
cleared  her  fence,  in  a  voice  whose  silver 
notes  were  musical  as  the  tones  from  a  flute. 

Lady  Farnleigh  of  Wans  trow  Manor,  gen- 
tle reader,  and  Miss  Kate  Lindisfarn,  daugh- 
ter of  Oliver  Lindisfarn,  Esq.,  of  the  Chase. 

The  fence  was  not  much  of  a  jump ;  and 
the  whole  appearance  of  the  ladies  betokened 
that  they  were  accustomed  to  much  severer 
feats  of  horsemanship  than  that.  It  was  a 
soft  morning,  and  though  the  Lindisfarn 
woods  above  were  glistening  in  the  sunshine, 
and  the  old  castle  keep  and  the  towers  of 
the  cathedral  at  Silverton  were  clearly  defined 
in  the  bright  air,  the  mist,  as  has  been  said, 
was  still  lying  in  the  valley,  and  glistening 
drops  of  the  moisture  had  gathered  on  the 
brims  and  on  the  somewhat  bedraggled  feathers 
of  the  ladies'  low-crowned  beaver  hats,  and  on 
the  curls  of  hair,  which  hung  in  slightly  di- 
shevelled disarray  around  their  necks.  They 
bore  about  them,  too,  still  more  decided 
marks  of  hard  riding.     Their  habits  were 


splashed  with  mud  up  to  their  shoulders,  and 
the  lower  parts  of  them  were  evidently  the 
worse  for  the  passage  of  Lindisfarn  Brook 
ford.  Their  whole  appearance  was  such,  in 
short,  that  had  a  malicious  fairy  dropped 
them  just  as  they  were  into  the  midst  of  the 
ride  in  Hyde  Park,  they  would  have  wished 
the  earth  to  open  and  swallow  them  up.  Yet 
many  a  fair  frequenter  of  that  matchless  show 
of  horsewomen,  would,  more  judiciously,  have 
given  anything  to  look  exactly,  age  for  age, 
like  either  lady.  They  were  both  beautiful 
women,  though  the  elder  was  the  mother  of 
a  peer,  who  had  just  taken  his  seat  in  the 
House.  In  fact,  the  Dowager  Lady  Farnleigh 
was  only  in  her  forty-fourth  year.  Her  com- 
panion was  twenty-sis  years  younger.  But 
both  were  in  face  and  figure  eminently  beau- 
tiful, and  did  not  look  less  so  for  the  glow 
which  their  exercise  had  called  into  their 
cheeks,  and  the  sparkle  in  their  eyes  from 
the  excitement  of  their  gallop.  Both  sat  their 
horses  to  perfection,  as  the  old  man  had  said  ; 
and  both  were  admirably  well  mounted, — 
Lady  Farnleigh  on  a  magnificent  bay,  and 
Kate  on  a  somewhat  smaller  and  slighter 
black, — as  indeed  they  needed  to  be  for  the 
work  they  had  been  engaged  in.  Their  horses 
were  splashed  from  fetlock  to  shoulder,  and 
from  nose  to  crupper  ;  and  the  gallop  up  the 
rise  from  the  ford,  and  over  the  deep  turf  of 
the  soft  common  made  their  flanks  heave  as 
their  riders  pulled  up  in  the  road  ;  and  the 
breath  from  their  mobile  nostrils  was  con- 
densed into  little  clouds  just  a  shade  darker 
than  the  white  mist  that  lay  on  the  water- 
meads.  But  the  eyes  in  their  pretty  thorough- 
bred heads  were  as  bright  as  those  of  their 
mistresses  ;  and  as  they  turned  their  heads 
and  erect  ears  up  the  road  and  down  the  road, 
as  if  inquiring  for  further  orders,  they  seemed 
rather  anxious  to  be  off  again  than  distressed 
by  what  they  had  already  done. 

"  Why,  Kate  !  "  cried  Lady  Farnleigh,  in 
a  clear,  ringing,  cheery  voice,  that  would  have 
been  good  to  any  amount  as  a  draft  for  sym- 
pathy on  any  one  within  earshot, — "  why, 
Kate,  as  I  am  a  sinner,  if  there  is  not  Freddy 
Falconer  coming  along  the  road  on  his  cob, 
looking  for  all  the  world,  of  course,  as  if  he 
had  been  just  taken  out  of  the  bandbox  in 
which  the  London  tailor  had  sent  him  down 
for  the  enlightenment  of  us  natives  !  Shall 
we  run,  Kate,  like  naughty  girls  as  we  are  ? 
— shall  we  show  our  Silverton  arbiter  clrr/antia- 


8 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


rum  a  clean  pair  of  heels,  or  boldly  stay  and 
abide  the  ordeal?  " 

"  Oh,  I  vote  for  standing  our  ground,"  an- 
swered Kate  ;  "  I  see  no  reason  for  running 
away,"  she  added,  laughing,  but  with  a  some- 
what heightened  color  in  her  cheek. 

"  To  be  sure  !  AVhat  is  Freddy  Falconer  to 
you,  or  you  to  Freddy  Falconer?  Them's 
your  sentiments,  as  old  Gaffer^Miles  saj's,  eh, 
Kate  ?  Who's  afraid  ?  I  am  sure  I  am  not !  " 
replied  Lady  Farnleigh,  looking  half  jestingly, 
half  observantly,  into  her  goddaughter's  face  ; 
— for  she  stood  in  that  relationship  to  Miss 
Lindisfarn. 

Kate  laughed,  and  shook  her  pretty  head, 
putting  up  a  little  slender  hand  in  its  neatly 
fitting  gauntlet,  as  she  did  so,  to  make  a  lit- 
tle unavowed  attempt  at  restoring  her  hair 
to  some  small  appearance  of  order. 

In  another  minute  the  rider,  whom  Lady 
Farnleigh  had  observed  in  the  road,  coming 
up  at  a  walk,  reached  the  spot  where  the 
ladies  were. 

He  was  a  young  man  of  some  twenty-seven 
years  of  age.  It  was  impossible  to  deny — 
even  Lady  Farnleigh  could  not  have  denied — 
that  Nature  had  done  her  part  to  qualify  him 
for  becoming  the  arbiter  elc(/antiarum  she 
had  sneeringly  called  him.  He  waa  indeed 
remarkably  handsome ;  fair  in  complexion, 
with  perhaps  a  too  delicate  and  unbronzed 
pink  cheek  for  a  m&,n  ;  plenty  of  light-brown, 
crisp,  curling  hair  ;  no  mustache  or  beard, 
and  closely  trimmed  whiskers  ('twas  forty 
years  ago)  ;  large  light-blue  eyes,  a  well- 
formed  mouth,  the  lips  of  which,  however, 
were  rather  thin,  and  lacked  a  little  of  that 
color  in  which  his  cheek  was  so  rich  ;  and  a 
tall,  well-proportioned  figure  ; — a  strikingly 
handsome  man  unquestionably. 

Nor  had  Fortune  been  behindhand  in  con- 
tributing her  share  to  the  perfect  production 
in  question.  For  Mr.  Frederick  Falconer  was 
the  only  son  and  heir  of  the  wealthy  and 
prosperous  banker,  the  senior  partner  of  the 
old  established  and  much  respected  firm  of 
Falconer  and  Fishbourne,  of  Silvcrton.  And 
as  for  Art,  her  contributions  to  the  joint 
product  had  been  unstinted,  and  in  her  best 
possible  style.  Every  portion  of  the  costume, 
appointments,  and  equipments  of  Mr.  Freder- 
ick Falconer  and  his  horse,  from  the  top  of  the 
well-brushed  beaver  to  the  tip  of  the  well- 
polished  and  faultless  boot  of  the  biped,  and 
from  the  artistically  groomed  tail  to  the  shin- 


ing curb-chain  of  the  quadruped,  were  abso- 
lutely perfect  ;  and  fully  justified  the  antici- 
patory commendation  that  Lady  Farnleigh 
had  bestowed  upon  them.  And  in  addition 
to  all  this,  it  may  be  said  that  Falconer  was 
an  almost  universal  favorite  in  the  Silvcrton 
society — in  the  "  very  best"  Silvcrton  soci- 
ety, of  course.  The  young  men  did  not  ad- 
mire him  quite  so  much  as  the  young  ladies. 
But  this  was  natural  enough.  Both  sexes, 
however,  of  the  old,  professed  an  equally  fa- 
vorable opinion  of  him.  He  was  held  to  be  a 
good  son,  as  attentive  to  his  father's  business 
as  could  well  be  expected  under  the  circum- 
stances, a  well-conducted  and  steady  young 
man,  and  by  pretty  well  all  the  Silvcrton  ma- 
tronocracy  a  decidedly  desirable  "  parti.'" 

(How  naturally  we  Anglo-Saxon  folks  speak 
French  whenever  we  have  anything  to  say  of 
which  we  are  at  all  ashamed ;  or  any  lie  to 
tell !) 

"  Good-morning,  Lady  Farnleigh!  Good- 
morning,  Miss  Lindisfarn !  "  he  said,  saluting 
the  ladies  with  easy  grace,  as  he  came  up  to 
them.  "  You  are  not  only  riding  early  this 
morning,  but  you  have  been  riding  some  time 
earlier  ;  for  I  see  you  have  crossed  Lindisfarn 
Brook!" 

Both  ladies  gave  a  nod  in  return  for  his 
salutation^  Lady  Farnleigh  not  a  distant  or 
supercilious,  but  rather  a  dry  one  (if  a  nod 
can  be  said  to  be  dry,  as  I  think  it  may) ,  and 
Kate  a  good-natured  one,  accompanied  by  a 
good-humored  smile. 

"You  have  been  riding  early  too,  which 
is  paying  this  misty  morning  a  much  high- 
er compliment!  "  returned  Ladj'  Farnleigh, 
"  for  you  are  already  returning  to  Silver- 
ton." 

"Yes.  I  have  been  to  Churton  Basset 
already  this  morning.  ]My  father  wanted  a 
letter  taken  to  Quorn  and  Prideaux  there  be- 
fore they  opened  for  the  day.  Some  business 
of  the  bank." 

"  Well,  our  ride  is  not  so  near  its  end  as 
yours.  We  are  going  up  to  the  Chase  again, 
as  soon  as  I  have  visited  an  old  friend  of  mine 
in  the  village  here.  Will  you  ride  over  the 
common  with  us?  Come  up  to  the  Chase; 
and  Miss  Imogene  shall  give  you  some  lun- 
cheon. And  you  may  ride  over  with  me 
back  again  to  Wanstrow  in  the  afternoon,  if 
you  like." 

And  Kate  bowed  her  backing  of  the  invi- 
tation, with  a  smile  that  made  Mr.  Frederick 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


feel  a  strong  inclination  to  accept  it ;  al- 
though, in  fact,  Kate  had  intended  only  to 
be  courteous,  and  by  no  means  wished  to  bo, 
on  this  occasion,  taken  at  her  word,  or  rather 
at  her  bow  and  smile ;  for  slic  had  not  spo- 
ken. 

It  was  true  that  Fred  had  Messrs.  Quorn  and 
Prideaux's answer  to  his  father's  letter  in  his 
pocket ;  but  ho  had  no  reason  to  think  that 
it  mattered  much  whether  it  reached  its  des- 
tination a  few  hours  sooner  or  later.  And  in 
truth  it  was  the  consideration  of  the  nature 
of  the  ride  proposed  to  liim,  rather  than  any 
anxiety  about  the  letter,  that  made  him  plead 
the  necessity  of  returning  to  Silverton  as  an 
excuse  for  not  accepting  the  proposal. 

"  Well,  good-day,  then.  You  are  a  pearl 
of  a  messenger !  Give  my  compliments  to 
your  father;  and  oh,  Mr.  Falconer!  there  is 
a  lot  of  mud  in  the  road  by  the  lock  yonder  ; 
take  care  you  do  not  splasla  yourself.  Good- 
by!" 

He  understood  the  sneer  well  enough  ;  and 
would  have  been  riled  at  it,  if  Kate  had  not 
administered  an  antidote  to  the  acerbity  of 
her  godmother's  tongue,  by  giving  him  a  part- 
ing nod  and  a  "  Good-by,  Mr.  Falconer,"  in 
which  there  was  no  acerbity  at  all. 

Nevertheless,  as  the  young  man  rode  off 
toward  the  city,  and  the  ladies  turned  their 
horses'  heads  to  enter  the  village  of  Weston 
Friary,  Kate  said,  addressing  her  compan- 
ion,— 

"  How  could  you  think  of  inviting  him 
up  to  the  Chase  to-day?  As  if  we  had  not 
enough  to  think  of,  without  having  strangers 
on  our  hands!  " 

"  Don't  be  a  goose,  Kate  !  "  answered  the 
elder  lady.  "  Do  you  think  I  imagined  that 
there  was  the  slightest  chance  of  Master 
Freddy  consenting  to  ride  over  Lindisfarn 
Common  with  you  and  me?  Catch  him  at 
it !  But  at  what  time  do  you  think  your 
sister  may  arrive?" 

"We  have  calculated  that  she  may  be  at  the 
Chase  by  two.  I  wanted  to  meet  her  in  Sil- 
verton ;  but  papa  thought  it  best  that  we 
should  all  receive  her  together  at  home.  We 
must  take  care  to  be  back  at  the  Chase  by 
that  time.  I  would  not  be  out  when  she 
comes  for  the  world  !  ' ' 

"  Oh,  no  fear!  I've  only  to  say  half  a 
dozen  words  to  old  (iranny  Wilkins,  poor 
thing,  in  Westori  here,  and  then  we'll  go  up 
to  the  Chase  best  pace.     We  sha'n't  be  long,   great  blu<li 


since  we  have  not  Master  Freddy  at  our 
heels." 

"  Why,  what  a  spite  you  have,  godmamma, 
against  poor  Mr.  Falconer !  What  has  he 
done  to  offend  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing  in  the  world,  my  dear !  And  I 
have  not  the  slightest  idea  of  being  offended 
with  him.  It  is  true  I  don't  like  him  quite 
so  much  as  all  the  Silverton  young  ladies 
do." 

"  I  don't  think  you  like  him  at  all !  Why 
don't  you?"  asked  Kate,  with  a  blunt, 
straightforward  frankness  that  was  peculiar 
to  her. 

"  Well,  I  don't  like  him  at  all,  that's  the 
truth  !  But  you  know  the  old  rhyme,  Kate, — 
'  I  do  not  like  you.  Dr.  Fell,'  etc.,  etc.  Upon 
second  thoughts,  however,  I  think  I  can  tell 
why  I  don't  like  Freddy  Falconer.  He  is  a 
regular  " — 

"  Oh,  not  a  snob,  as  you  said  of  that  super- 
fine Captain  Marnisty,  the  other  day.  I  don't 
think  Mr.  Falconer  is  a  snob  !  " 

"  No,  I  was  not  going  to  say  a  snob.  Why 
should  you  fancy  I  was?  " 

"  Only  because,  when  you  called  Captain 
Marnisty  so,  you  said  '  a  regular  snob,'  just 
in  the  same  sort  of  way." 

"  Well,  this  time  I  am  going  to  say  a  reg- 
ular something  else.  No,  it  would  not  be 
fair,  or  true,  to  say  that  Fred  Falconer  is  a 
snob.  But  I  can  put  what  he  is  into  four 
letters  too!" 

"  Not  a  fool !  "  expostulated  Kate. 

"  No,  that's  not  quite  it  either,  though 
I  have  known  wiser  men  than  Fred.  Try 
again  !  " 

"  Dandy  has  five  letters,"  said  Kate,  med- 
itatively. 

"  Yes,  and  so  has  scamp  ;  and  I  do  not  mean 
to  call  J\lr.  Falconer  that  cither.  No,  if  I 
must  tell  you ,  it  is  p — i* — i — g.  Freddy  Fal- 
coner is  a  regular  prig !  And  I  am  not  fond 
of  prigs.  But  Heaven  help  us  all !  there  are 
worse  things  than  prigs  in  the  world  ;  and  1 
have  nothing  to  say  against  the  man.  Only," 
she  added,  after  a  pause,  "  to  make  a  clean 
breast  of  it,  Kate,  I  have  fancied  lately  that 
I  have  seen  symptoms  of  his  Sultanship  hav- 
ing taken  it  into  his  head  to  throw  the 
handkerchief  in  the  direction  of  Lindisfarn 
Chase  " — 

"  I  am  sure  he  never  thought  of  such  a 
thinir !  "  said  Kate,  with  a  little  toss  and  a 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


10 


' '  So  much  the  better  !  In  that  case,  Freddy 
and  I  shall  remain  very  good  friends.  lie  may 
make  love  to  every  other  girl  in  the  county  for 
aught  I  care ;  but  if  he  meddles  with  my 
Kate,  garc  la  rnarraine  !  that's  all !  Will  you 
come  in  with  me  to  see  old. Granny  Wilkins, 
dear,  or  sit  on  your  horse  till  I  have  done? 
I  sha'n't  be  a  minute." 

"  No,  no  ;  let  me  come  in  vrith  you.  Gran- 
ny Wilkins  is  an  old  acquaintance  of  mine." 
So  the  groom  helped  both  the  ladies  to  dis- 
mount at  the  door  of  the  cottage  ;  and  it  was 
evident  from  the  unsurprised  manner  in  which 
the  paralytic  old  inhabitant  of  it  received  her 
visitors  that  they  were  neither  of  them  stran- 
gers to  her. 

The  business  with  Dame  Wilkins  was  soon 
despatched,  as  Lady  Farnleigh  had  said  that  it 
would  be.  It  consisted  only  of  the  adminis- 
tration of  one  or  two  little  articles  of  creature 
comfort,  a  trifle  of  money,  and  a  few  of  those 
kind  words,  more  valuable  than  any  of  these, 
when  spoken  by  the  gentle  and  wealthy  to  the 
poor  and  simple  with  that  tact  ai>d  heartiness 
which  are  botli  naturally  inspired  by  genuine 
sympathy,  but  which  are  as  naturally,  and 
with  fatal  result,  wanting  to  those  charitable 
ministrations,  performed  as  a  matter  of  duty, 
according  to  cut-and-dry  rules,  even  though 
those  rules  shall  have  been  adjusted  in  accord- 
ance with  the  most  approved  maxims  of  mod- 
ern social  science. 

The  fact  is  that  there  is  just  the  difference 
between  the  two  things  that  there  is  between 
the  workmanship  of  some  old  cinque-cfinto  ar- 
tist, and  the  product  of  a  Birmingham  steam 
factory.  There  is  much  in  favor  of  the  latter. 
Millions  of  the  required  article  are  turned  out 
of  hand  instead  of  units.  There  is  infinitely 
less  loss  of  material.  The  article  produced  is, 
according  to  every  mechanical  test,  even  bet- 
ter than  the  handiwork  of  the  old  artist.  It 
is  more  accurate,  its  rounds  are  absolutely 
round,  its  angles  true  angles  ;  each  individ- 
ual article  of  the  gross  turned  out  per  hour  is 
exactly  the  same  as  every  other,  and  all  are 
adapted  with  scientific  forethought  to  the  ex- 
act requirements  they  are  intended  to  serve. 
But  the  old  handicraftsman  impressed  his  in- 
dividuality on  the  work  of  his  hands, — put 
his  Avhole  soul  into  it,  as  we  say,  more  liter- 
ally than  we  often  think,  as  we  use  the  phrase. 
What  is  the  diiference  between  this  old  six- 
teenth century — anything, — inkstand,  lady's 
needlecase,  or  v/hat  not,  and  the  article  im- 


itated from  it  by  our  mechanical  science  ?  I 
am  not' artist  enough  to  say  what  the  differ- 
ence is  ;  but  I  see  it  and  feel  it  readily  enough  ; 
and  so  docs  everybody  else.  And  the  mar- 
ket value  of  the  ancient  artist's  piece  sha^l 
be  as  a  thousand  to  one  to  that  of  the  mod- 
ern imitation  of  it.  And  I  know  that  this 
subtle  difference,  and  this  superior  value  is 
due  to  that  presence  of  the  workman's  soul, 
which  the  best  possible  steam-engine  (having, 
up  to  the  date  of  the  latest  improvement,  no 
soul)  cannot  impart  to  its  products. 

The  best  possible  mechanism,  whether  ap- 
plied by  dynamic  science  to  the  shaping  and 
chasing  of  metal,  or  by  social  science  to  the 
cheering  of  poverty  and  the  relief  of  suffering, 
must  not  be  expected  to  do  the  work  of  indi- 
•vidually  applied  sympathy,  heart  and  soul. 
But  modern  civilization  needs  beautiful  ink- 
stands in  millions  ;  and  the  masses  of  modern 
population  need  ministrations  only  to  be  sup- 
plied by  organized  social  machinery.  Very 
true  !  Only  do  not  let  us  suppose  that  we 
get  the  same  thing,  or  a  thing  nearly  as  pre- 
cious. Maybe  we  get  the  best  we  can.  But 
the  human  brain-directed  hand  must  come  in 
contact  with  the  material,  to  produce  the 
higher  order  of  artistic  beauty.  And  indi- 
vidual human  sympathy,  unclogged  by  rules, 
must  bring  one  human  heart  into  absolute 
contact  with  another,  before  the  best  kind  of 
"  relief"  can  be  attained. 

Dame  Wilkins,  however,  was  the  fortunate 
possessor  of  the  real  artistic  article,  in  the 
kind  visits  of  Lady  Farnleigh.  But  the  few 
kind  words,  which  were  treasured  and  re- 
peated and  prized,  did  not  take  long  in  say- 
ing ;  and  the  two  ladies  in  a  very  few  minutes 
were  mounting  their  horses  again.  Miss 
Lindisfarn  was  already  in  the  saddle  ;  and 
Lady  Farnleigh  was  about  to  mount,  when 
the  groom  said,  in  an  under  voice,  "  Please, 
my  lady,  the  tobacco  !" 

"  To  be  sure  !  What  a  brute  I  am  to  have 
forgotten  it!  Give  me  the  packet,  Giles." 
She  took  the  little  parcel  Giles  produced 
from  his  pocket,  and  returning  into  the  cot- 
tage said,  "  Here,  granny.  If  it  had  not 
been  for  Giles,  I  should  have  forgotten  the 
best  of  my  treat.  Here's  half  a  pound  of 
baccy  to  comfort  you  as  the  cold  nights  come 
on." 

"  Oh,  my  lady  !  That  is  the  best !  You 
knows  how  to  comfort  a  poor  old  body  as  has 
lost  the  use  of  her  precious  limljs.     Thank 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


11 


you,  my  lady,  and  God  bless  you  !  "  said  the 
old  woman,  as  a  gleam  of  pleasure  came  into 
her  watery  old  eyes  at  the  thought  of  the 
gratification  contained  in  that  small  packet. 

"  I  say,  godniamma  dear,"  said  Kate,  after 
a  pause,  as  they  were  riding  at  a  sober  pace 
through  the  village,  "  do  you  think  it  is  right 
to  give  the  poor  people  tobacco  ?  I  have  often 
heard  Uncle  Theophilus  say  that  the  habit 
of  smoking  is,  nest  to  drinking,  the  worst 
thing  for  tho  laboring  classes;  that  it  pro- 
motes bad  company,  encourages  idleness,  and 
very  often  leads  to  drunkenness." 

"  Uncle  Theophilus  may  go  to  Jericho  !  I 
am  of  another  parish  ;  and  don't  like  his  doc- 
trine !  Tell  him  from  me,  Kate,  the  next 
time  he  preaches  on  that  text,  that  the  labor- 
ing classes  are  of  opinion  that  there  is  noth- 
ing worse  for  their  superiors  than  the  habit  of 
drinking  port  wine  ;  that  it  makes  the  tem- 
per crusty,  promotes  red  noses,  and  very  often 
leads  to  the  gout!  " 

"  Ila,  ha,  ha,  ha!  "  laughed  Kate  in  sil- 
very notes,  that  made  the  little  village  street 
musical  ;  "  depend  upon  it,  I  will  give  him 
your  message  word  for  word." 

And  then  after  a  short  gallop  over  the  com- 
mon, they  crossed  the  ford  again,  not  without 
carrying  away  with  them  some  additional 
specimen  of  the  soil  of  its  banks  and  bottom, 
and  thence  made  the  best  of  their  way,  first 
over  the  broken  open  ground  which  intervened 
between  the  brook  and  the  Lindisfarn  woods, 
and  then  through  the  leafy  lanes  which  crossed 
them,  gradually  reaching  the  higher  ground, 
till  they  came  out  on  the  carriage  road  from 
Silver  ton  to  the  Chase,  a  little  below  the  Lodge 
gates. 

Here  Lady  Famleigh  turned  her  horse's 
head  to  return  to  Wanstrow  by  the  road 
through  Silverton,  leaving  Kate  to  ride  up  to 
the  house  alone. 

"Good-by,  darling  !  "  she  said ;  "  1  wont 
come  in.  I  know  how  anxious  you  must  all 
be.  But  remember  that  I  shall  be  anxious 
also  to  hear  all  about  the  new  sister,  and  ride 
over  the  day  after  to-morrow  at  the  furthest ; 
there's  a  dear.     Love  to  them  all !  " 

And  Kate  cantered  up  the  avenue  to  join 
the  other  members  of  the  family,  who  were, 
not  without  some  little  nervous  expectation, 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  a  daughter  of  the 
house,  whom  none  of  them  had  seen  for  the 
last  fifteen  years. 


CHAPTER   III. 


THE   FAMILY   IN   THE   CLOSE. 

Lindisfarn  house  is  a  noble  old  mansion, 
almost  entirely  of  the  Elizabethan  period, 
with  stately,  stifi",  and  trim  gardens  behind 
it,  embosomed  in  woods  behind  and  around 
them,  with  larger  and  more  modern  gardens 
on  one  side  of  it,  and  a  wide  open  gravel 
drive,  and  a  piece  of  tree-dotted  parklike 
pasture-land  in  front  of  the  house  ;  beyond 
which  it  looks  down  over  the  wooded  slope  de- 
scending to  the  Lindisfarn  Brook,  and  across 
it  to  the  cultivated  side  of  the  hill  on  the 
other  side  of  the  top  of  which  stands  Silver- 
ton.  The  city  is  not  seen  from  the  house. 
But  the  old  castle  keep  is  just  visible  as  an 
object  on  the  edge  of  the  not  distant  horizon. 

It  is  so  charming  an  old  house,  so  full  of 
character,  so  homogeneously  expressive  in  all 
its  parts  and  all  its  surroundings,  and  every 
detail  of  it  and  the  scenery  around  it  is  so  viv- 
idly impressed  on  my  remembrance,  that  it  is 
a  great  temptation  to  try  my  power  of  word- 
painting  by  attempting  a  minute  description 
of  the  place.  But  conscious  of  having  often 
"skipped"  similar  descriptions  written  by 
others,  I  do  as  I  would  be  done  by  and  refrain. 
After  all,  the  associations  to  be  found  in  qieh 
reader's  memory  and  reminiscences  have  to  be 
called  on  to  supplement  the  most  successful 
of  such  descriptions.  How  can  I  cause  to 
echo  in  the  memory-chambers  of  another's 
brain  as  they  are  echoing  in  mine  the  morn- 
ing concert  of  the  rooks  in  the  humid  autumn 
morning  air,  or  in  the  dreamy  quietude  of 
the  sunset  hour, — the  barking  of  the  dogs, 
and  the  cheery,  ringing  tones  of  old  Oliver 
Lindisfarn 's  voice,  which  seemed  never  to  eon- 
descend  to  a  lower  note  than  that  adapted  to 
a  "  Yoicks  !  forward  !  hark  forward  !  "  and 
which,  as  it  used  to  echo  through  the  great 
hall,  or  make  the  windows  of  the  wainscoted 
parlors  ring  again,  seemed  to  harmonize  so 
perfectly  and  pleasantly  with  the  other  sounds ! 
Why,  I  swear  that  even  the  cry  of  the  peacock 
seems  melodious  as  it  comes  wafted  across 
forty  years  of  memory  !  And  as  for  Kate's 
silver-toned  laugh  on  the  terrace  in  front 
■of  the  house,  as  she  played  with  old  Bayard, 
the  great  rough  mastiff,  or  enticed  her  bonny 
black  mare  Birdie,  to  follow  her  up  and  down 
for  lumps  of  sugar  purloined  out  of  Miss  Imo- 
gene's  breakfast  basin  ;  ah  me  !  the  old  Lin- 
disfarn rooks  will  never  hear  that  again ! 


12 

Nor  shall  T — that,  or  any  other  like  it ! 
And  dear  old  Miss  Immy,  as  she  loved  to  be 
called,  with  her  little  crisp  white  cap  set  on 
the  top  of  her  light  crisp  silver-white  curls, 
three  each  side  of  her  head,  and  her  round, 
withered,  red-apple  like  cheeks  and  her  bolt- 
upriglit  little  figure,  and  her  pit-a-pat  high- 
heeled  shoes,  and  her  stiff,  rustling,  lavender- 
colored  silk  gown,  which  seerned  to  go  across 
the  floor,  when  she  moved,  like  some  Dutch 
toy  moved  by  clockwork,  and  her  basket  of 
keys,  and  her  volume  of  Clarissa  Harlowe. 
Accidents  many  of  these  things  may  seem  to 
be  ;  but  they  were  properties  of  dear  old  Miss 
Immy.  For  they  never  changed,  neither  the 
enow-white  cap  nor  the  lavender-colored 
gown,  nor  the  volume  of  Clarissa  Harlowe. 
She  really  did  read  it !  But  she  faithfully 
began  it  again  as  soon  as  she  had  finished  the 
volume.  For  sixty  years  I  believe  Miss  Immy 
had  never  been  seen  without  her  little  basket 
of  keys  and  her  volume  of  Clarissa  Harlowe. 
I  will  not,  I  say,  attempt  to  describe  the 
old  place.  But  I  must  needs  give  some  ac- 
count of  the  inhabitants  of  it,  as  they  were 
at  the  period  to  which  this  history  refers. 

The  Lindisfai-n  property  had  belonged  to 
the  Lindisfarns  of  Lindisfarn  so  long  that 
not  only  the  memory  of  man  but  the  memory  of 
county  historians  "  ran  not  to  the  contrary," 
as  the  legal  phrase  goes.  The  rental  at  the  pe- 
riod of  our  histoi-y  was  a  well  paid  four  thousand 
a  year,  and  the  tenantry  were  as  well-to-do 
and  respectable  a  body  as  any  estate  in  the 
county  could  boast.  Oliver  Lindisfarn,  the 
son  and  grandson  of  other  Olivers,  and  the 
lord  of  this  eminently  "  desirable  property," 
was  in  his  sixtieth  year  at  the  time  here 
spoken  of.  He  had  married  early  in  life  a 
sister  of  his  neighbor.  Lord  Farnlcigh  ; — for 
the  old  lord  had  lived  at  Wanstrow,  which 
was  now  the  residence  of  the  dowager,  his 
widow,  the  young  lord  having  taken  his 
young  wife  to  reside  on  a  larger  property 
in  a  distant  county.  The  present  dowager. 
Lady  Farnlcigh,  was  therefore  the  sister-in- 
law  of  the  lady  Mr.  Lindisfarn  had  first  mar- 
ried ;  but  not  of  the  mother  of  the  two  young 
ladies,  of  whom  one  has  already  been  pre- 
sented to  the  reader.  They  were  the  offspring 
of  a  second  marriage.  Lady  Catherine  Lin- 
disfarn had  died  after  a  few  years  of  marriage, 
leaving  her  husband  a  childless  widower. 
He  had  remained  such  about  eight  years,  and 
had  then  at  the  age  of  forty-three  married  a 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


]\Iiss  Venafry,  who  after  two  years  of  mar- 
riage left  him  a  widower  for  the  second  time, 
and  the  father  of  two  little  twin-born  girls, 
Catherine  and  Margaret.  Catherine  had 
been  the  name  of  Mr.  Lindisfarn's  first  wife, 
and  Margaret  that  of  his  second. 

Of  course  the  absence  of  a  male  heir  was 
a  very  heavy  and  hitter  disappointment  to 
the  twice-widowed  father  of  two  nnportioned 
girls.  Mr.  Lindisfarn's  daughters  were  en- 
tirely so  ;  for  on  Lady  Catherine's  death  her 
fortune  returned  to  her  family ;  and  Miss 
Venafry  had  been  dowered  by  her  beauty 
alone.  In  another  point  of  view,  however, 
the  case  of  jMr.  Lindisfarn  was  not  so  hard 
as  that  of  many  another  sonless  holder  of  en- 
tailed property.  For  the  Lindisfarn  estates 
were  entailed  only  on  the  male  heir  of  Oliver, 
and  failing  an  heir  of  the  elder  brother,  on 
the  male  heir  of  his  younger  brother,  the 
Rev.  Theophilus  Lindisfarn.  If  there  were 
failure  of  a  male  heir  there  also,  the  daugh- 
ters of  Oliver  would  become  co-heiresses. 
But  Dr.  Theophilus  Lindisfarn,  Canon  of 
Silverton,  his  brother's  junior  by  only  one 
year,  had  married  Lady  Sempronia  Balstock, 
much  about  the  same  time  that  his  elder 
brother  had  married  Lady  Catherine  Farn- 
lcigh ;  and  of  thic  pjarriage  had  been  born  a 
son,  Julian,  who  was  about  thirteen  years 
old  at  the  time  of  the  birth  of  Oliver  Lin- 
disfarn's daughters.  They  were  born,  there- 
fore, to  nothing  save  such  provision  as  their 
father  might  lay  by  for  them  out  of  his  in- 
come ;  and  Julian,  when  his  uncle's  second 
wife  died  a  year  after  giving  birth  to  these 
portionless  girls,  became  the  heir  to  the  es- 
tates, barring  the  unlikely  chance  of  his  un- 
cle contracting  a  third  marriage. 

Long,  however,  before  the  dowerless  little 
twins  were  capable  of  caring  for  any  provision 
save  that  needed  for  the  passing  hour,  their 
prospects  in  life  became  somewhat  brightened. 
When  the  second  Mrs.  Lindisfarn  died,  a 
sister  of  hers,  a  few  years  her  senior,  who 
had  been  married  for  several  years  to  a  Baron 
de  Renneville,  a  Frenchman,  and  who  had 
been  Margaret  Lindisfarn's  godmother,  being 
childless,  proposed  to  adopt  her  goddaughter. 
A  pressing  and  most  kind  proposal  to  this  ef- 
fect, warmly  backed  by  the  baron  himself, 
held  out  to  his  child  a  prospect  which  the 
widowed  father  did  not  feel  justified  in  re- 
fusing. The  De  Rennevilles  were  wealthy, 
and  of  good  standing  in  the  best  Parisian  so- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


cicty.  Madame  de  Renneville  had  not  aban- 
doned her  religion.  She  remained  a  Protes- 
tant, and  there  was  no  objection,  therefore 
on  that  score.  So  the  little  Margaret,  ahnost 
before  she  was  out  of  her  nurse's  arms,  was 
sent  to  Paris,  to  be  brought  up  as  the  recog- 
nized heir  to  the  wealth  of  the  prosperous 
French  financier. 

The  prize  which  Fortune  had  in  her  lottery 
for  the  other  twin  sister,  Catherine,  was 
less  brilliant,  but,  nevertheless,  was  sufficient 
to  make  a  very  important  difference  in  her 
position.  Lady  Farnleigh,  the  sister-in-law 
of  Mr.  Lindisfarn's  first  wife,  had  become  the 
attached  fi'iend  of  his  second,  and  the  god- 
mother of  little  Catherine.  And  much  about 
the  same  time  that  jNIargaret  was  sent  to 
Paris,  it  was  understood  that  a  sum  of  six 
thousand  pounds  was  destined  by  Lady  Farn- 
leigh as  a  legacy  to  her  otherwise  wholly  un- 
provided-for  goddaughter. 

This  was  the  position  of  the  Lindisfarn 
family  at  the  period  of  Mrs.  Lindisfarn's 
death.  But  events  had  occurred  between 
that  time  and  the  date  at  which  this  histo- 
ry opens  which  very  materially  altered  the 
whole  state  of  the  case.  And  in  order  to  ex- 
plain these,  it  is  necessary  to  turn  our  attention 
away  for  a  few  minutes  from  the  family  at 
the  Chase,  and  give  it  to  that  of  Dr.  Lindis- 
farn, in  the  Close  at  Silverton. 

The  Chapter  of  Silverton,  at  the  remote  pe- 
riod of  which  I  write,  was  not  noted  for  the 
strictly  clerical  character  of  it*"  members. 
Public  opinion  did  not  demand  much  in  this 
respect  in  those  days.  The  Plight  Reverend 
Father,  who  had  presided  for  many  years  over 
the  diocese,  was  a  well-born  and  courtly  pre- 
late far  better  known  in  certain  distinguished 
metropolitan  circles  than  at  Silverton.  He 
was  known  to  hold  very  strong  opinions  on 
the  necessity  of  filling  the  ranks  of  the  estab- 
lished church  with  c/cntlemen.  And  though 
I  cannot  assert  that  he  required-  candidates 
for  ordination  to  forward,  together  with 
their  other  papers,  an  heraldic  certificate  of 
the  •'  quartcrings  "  they  were  entitled  to, 
after  the  fashion  of  a  noble  German  Chapter, 
yet  it  was  perfectly  well  understood  that  no 
awkward  highlow-shod  son  of  the  soil,  how- 
ever competent  to  "mouth  out  Homer's!  for  he  was  a  man  of  real  wit.  (N.B.  Thouo^h 
Greek  like  thunder,"  would  do  well  to  ap- |  a  very  clever  fellow  in  his  way,  he  was  not 
ply  to  the  Bishop  of  Silverton  fot  ordination,   capable  of  writing  some  of  the  best  articles  in 

The   Silverton   canonries   were  very  good  ;  the  Edinhurgh  Review.)     But  nothing  in  the 
things;  and  good  things  of  this  sort  were,  it  shape  of  a  joke  came  amiss  to  him,  be  the 


13 

I  may  perhaps  be  thought,  naturally  reserved 
for  those  whose  worship  was  ratlier  given  to 
the  special  patron  of  good  things.  Mammon, 
than  to  any  more  avowed  object  of  their  ado- 
ration. But  nobody  could  say  that  the  Sil- 
verton canons  were  not  gentlemen.  Nor  can 
it  be  said  that,  with  the  exception  of  one,  or 
perhaps  two,  of  the  body,  whose  love  for  good 
things  went  to  tke  extent  of  lioarding  them 
when  they  had  got  them,  they  were  other- 
wise than  well  liked  by  the  Silvertonians  of 
all  classes  ;  putting  out  of  the  question,  as  of 
course  they  were  out  of  the  question,  those 
few  pestilent  fellows  who  sang  hymns  to  horn- 
pipe tunes  down  in  the  back  slums.  They 
were  gentlemen  ;  and  the  Silverton  world  said 
that  they  spent  their  revenues  as  such,  which 
was  what  the  Silverton  world  considered  to 
be  the  main  point.  Only  the  worst  of  it  was 
that  Messrs.  Falconer  and  Fishbourne  might 
have  had  reason  to  think  that  some  among 
them  pushed  this  good  quality  to  excess. 

Dr.  Lindisfarn,  it  is  fair  to  state  at  once, 
to  prevent  the  reader  of  these  improved  davs 
from  conceiving  an  unfQunded  j^i't'judice 
against  him,  was  perhaps  the  most  clerical 
of  the  body  in  question.  Not  that  it  is  to  be 
understood  by  this  that  any  High  Church- 
man or  Low  Churchman  or  Broad  Churchman 
of  the  present  day  would  have  deemed  poor 
Dr.  Lindisfarn  anything  like  up  to  the  mark 
of  their  different  requirements  and  theories. 
He  would  have  been  sorely  perplexed  to  com- 
prehend what  anybody  was  driving  at,  who 
should  have  talked  to  him  of  the  duty  of 
"  earnestness."  He  found  the  world  a  v€ry 
fairly  satisfactory  world,  as  it  was,  and  had 
never  conceived  the  remotest  idea,  good,  easy 
man,  that  he  was  in  any  wise  called  on  fo  do 
anything  toward  leaving  it  at  all  better  than 
he  found  it.  Nevertheless,  he  was  fairly  en- 
titled to  be  considered  as  the  most  respectably 
clerical  of  his  Chapter,  because  his  tastes  and 
pursuits  were  of  a  nature  that  was  not  in  any 
degree  in  overt  disaccordance  with  the  cleri- 
cal character,  even  according  to  our  modern 
conception  of  it.  Whereas  the  same  could 
hardly  be  said  of  the  majority  of  his  fellow- 
canons.  One  was  a  very  notorious  joker  of 
jokes, — of  very  good  jokes,  too,  occasionally, 


14 

subject  or  tendency  of  it  uluit  it  might.  llo 
preferred  good  society ;  but  the  profanum 
vulgus  was  not  the  portion  of  the  vulgar, 
which  he  most  hated  and  kept  at  a  distance. 
Another  was  known  to  be  an  accomplished 
musical  critic,  but  was  thought  to  prefer 
Mozart  and  Cimarosa  to  Boyce  and  Purcell, 
and  to  have  a  not  uninfluential  voice  in  the 
counsels  of  the  lessee  of  His  JIajesty's  Thea- 
tre in  the  Haymarket.  Another  had  been 
seen  on  more  than  one  occasion  to  wave  above 
his  head  a  hat  that  looked  very  like  a  full- 
blown shovel  in  the  excitement  of  a  hardly 
contested  race  at  Newmarket.  A  fourth  was 
universally  allowed  to  be  one  of  the  best 
whist-players  in  England,  and  was  thought 
to  be  in  no  danger  of  losing  his  skill  for  want 
of  practice,  while  a  fifth  was  believed  to  be  a 
far  deeper  student  of  the  mysteries  of  the 
stock-eschange  than  of  any  other  sort  of 
lore. 

Dr.  Theophilus  Lindisfarn  meddled  with 
none  of  these  anti-clerical  pursuits.  His 
heart,  as  well  as  his  corporeal  presence,  was 
in  Silver  ton  Close,  and  Silver  ton  Cathedral 
Church.  But  his  love  for  the  Church  fixed 
itself  rather  on  the  material  structures  which 
are  as  the  outward  and  visible  signs  of  its  in- 
ward and  spiritual  existence,  than  on  the  ab- 
stract ideas  of  a  Church  invisible.  He  was  a 
man  of  considerable  learning  and  of  yet 
greater  zeal  for  antiquarian  and  especially 
ecclesiological  pursuits.  It  is  in  the  nature 
and  destiny  of  hobbies  to  be  hard  ridden. 
This  was  Dr.  Lindisfarn 's  hobby  ;  and  he  did 
ride  it  very  hard.  lie  was  far  from  a  value- 
less man,  as  a  member  of  the  Silverton  Chap- 
ter. The  dean  was  not  untinctured  with 
similar  tastes  ;  and  with  his  assistance  and 
support  Dr.  Lindisfarn  had  accomplished 
much  for  the  restoration  and  repair  of  Silver- 
ton  cathedral,  at  a  time  when  such  things 
were  less  thought  of  than  they  are  in  these 
days.  lie  had  fought  many  a  hard  fight  in 
the  Chapter  with  his  brother  dignitaries, 
who  foin  would  have  expended  no  shilling 
of  the  Church  revenues  for  such  a  purpose  ; 
and  not  content  with  the  niggard  grants 
which  it  had  been  possible  to  induce  that 
body  to  allocate  for  the  purpose,  had  spent 
much  of  his  own  money  on  his  beloved 
church.  In  fact,  it  was  very  well  known, 
that  the  whole  of  a  considerable  sum  which 
he  had  received  from  an  unexpected  leg- 
acy by  a  relative  of  Lady  Sempronia,  had 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


gone  towards  the  new  panelled  ceiling  in 
painted  coETor-work  of  the  transept  of  the  ca- 
thedral. And  indeed  it  was  whispered  at 
Silverton  tea-taijies  that  old  Mr.  Falconer  had 
been  heard  to  say,  with  a  mysterious  nod  of 
his  head,  that  the  legacy  in  question  had  by 
no  means  covered  all  that  tlie  canon  had  made 
himself  liable  for. 

Mr.  Falconer,  no  doubt,  knew  what  he  was 
talking  about,  for,  besides  being  Dr.  Lindis- 
farn's  banker,  he  was  a  brother  archgeolo- 
gist.  The  votaries  of  that  seducing  pursuit 
were  far  less  numerous  in  those  days  than  in 
our  own  ;  and  the  erudite  canon  of  Silverton 
was  fortunate  in  finding  a  felloM- -laborer  and 
supporter  where,  it  might  have  been  sup- 
posed, little  likely  to  meet  with  it. — in  the 
leading  banker  of  the  little  city.  The  dean  was 
the  only  member  of  the  Chapter,  besides  Dr. 
Lindisfarn,  who  cared  for  such  pursuits. 
But  a  few  recruits  were  found  among  the 
clergy  and  gentry  of  the  country  ;  and  the 
banker  and  the  canon  together  had  succeeded 
in  getting  up  a  little  county  archaeological 
society  and  publishing  club. 

Dr.  Lindisfarn's  tastes  and  pursuits  there- 
fore may  fairly  be  said  to  have  been  clerical, 
or  at  least  not  anti-clerical,  as  well  as  gentle- 
man-like. Nevertheless,  the  Lady  Sempro- 
nia, his  wife,  did  not  look  on  them  with  an 
altogether  favorable  eye.  And  perhaps  she 
can  hardly  be  blamed  for  her  feeling  on  the 
subject.  The  canon's  hobby  was  a  very  ex- 
pensive one.  The  cost  of  it,  indeed,  would 
have  done  far  more  than  amply  maintain  the 
handsome  pair  of  carriage-horses,  which  Lady 
Sempronia  hopelessly  sighed  for,  and  which 
would  have  spared  her  the  bitter  mortification 
of  going  to  visit  the  county  members'  wives, 
or  Lady  Farnleigh  at  Wanstrow,  in  a  hybrid 
sort  of  conveyance  drawn  by  one  stout  clumsy 
horse  in  the  shafts,  whereas  Mrs.  Dean  drove 
a  handsome  pair  of  grays.  Many  other  of 
the  small  troubles  and  mortifications,  which 
helped  to  make  Lady  Sempronia  a  querulous 
and  disappointed  woman,  were  traceable,  and 
were  very  accui-ately  as  well  as  very  frequently 
traced  by  her,  to  the  same  source.  Upon  the 
whole,  therefore,  it  was  hardly  to  be  won- 
dered at  that  the  poor  lady  should  abhor  all 
archajology  in  general,  and  the  Silverton  so- 
ciety and  printing  club  in  particular  ;  and 
that  she  should  have  regarded  the  discovery 
of  a  whitewash-covered  moulding,  or  half- 
defaced   inscription   as  a  bitter  misfortune, 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


boding  evil  to  the  comforts  of  lier  licarth  and 
home. 

Lady  Sempronia's  soul  Tvas  moreover  daily 
vexed  by  another  peculiarity  of  her  husband's 
idiosyncrasy,  which  she  put  down  —  with 
scarcely  sufficient  warrant,  perhaps,  from  the 
principles  of  psychological  science — all  to  tlie 
account  of  the  detested  archreology.  Dr. 
Lindisfarn  was  afflicted  by  habitual  absence 
of  mind  to  a  degree  which  occasionally  ex- 
posed him  and  those  connected  with  him  to 
considerable  inconvenience.  Ilis  wife  held 
that  the  evil  was  occasioned  wholly  by  his 
continual  meditations  on  his  favorite  pursuit 
when  his  wits  should  have  been  occupied 
with  other  matters.  But  the  evil  had  doubt- 
less a  deeper  root.  It  is  an  infirmity  gener- 
ally regarded  with  a  compassionate  smile  by 
those  who  are  witnesses  of  its  manifestations. 
But  to  a  narrow  little  mind,  soured  and  irri- 
tated by  other  annoyances,  and  at  best  plac- 
ing its  highest  conception  of  human  perfec- 
tion in  the  due  and  accurate  performance  of 
the  thousand  little  duties  and  proprieties  of 
every-day  life  in  proper  manner,  place,  and 
time,  the  eccentricities  of  a  thoroughly  ab- 
sent man  were  sources  of  anger  and  exacerba- 
tion, that  contributed  far  more  to  make  the 
life  of  the  lady  who  felt  them  unhappy  than 
they  did  to  affect  in  any  way  the  placid  object 
of  them.  Upon  one  occasion,  for  instance, 
her  indignation  knew  no  bounds,  when,  hav- 
ing with  some  difficulty  drive&-the  canon  from 
his  study  up-stairs  to  dress  for  a  dinner-party, 
to  which  they  were  engaged,  the  doctor,  on 
finding  himself  in  his  bedroom,  had  forgotten 
all  about  the  business  in  hand,  and  had  quietly 
undressed  himself  and  gone  to  bed,  where  he 
was  found  fast  asleep,  shortly  afterward,  by 
the  servant  sent  to  look  after  him.  Of  course 
all  Silverton  soon  knew  the  story,  and  the  ill- 
used  lady  poured  her  lamentations  into  the 
cars  of  her  special  friends.  But  Lady  Sem- 
pronia  was  not  popular  at  Silverton,  even 
among  her  special  friends  ;  and  it  may  be 
feared  that  the  Silverton  public  accorded  her 
on  this,  as  well  as  on  other  occasions,  less  of 
their  sympathy  than  her  sorrows  deserved. 

For  in  truth  the  poor  lady  had  been  sorely 
tried,  and  her  life  embittered  by  far  more  se- 
rious sorrow  and  severer  trouble, — a  sorrow 
that  had  left  its  mark  indelibly  on  her  heart, 
and  which  produced  in  her  mind  another 
source  of  half-latent  irritation  against  her 
husband  because  he  did  not  seem  to  be  equally 


15 

aflectcd  by  it ;  yet  it  was  the  greatest  common 
misfortune  a  man  and  wife  can  have  to  share, 
— the  loss  of  an  only  child.  And  Lady  Scra- 
pronia  wronged  her  liusband  in  supposing  that 
he  did  not  feel,  or  rather  had  not  felt,  the  blow 
acutely.  But  some  natures  are  so  constituted, 
that  sorrow  sinks  into  them,  as  water  into  a 
spongy  cloth  ;  while  from  others  it  as  natu- 
rally runs  off,  as  from  a  waterproof  surface. 
And  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  pronounce  on 
this  ground  alone  that  either  of  these  natures 
is  necessarily  superior  to  the  other.  And 
then  again  in  this  matter  the  doctor  no  doubt 
owed  much  to  his  hobby.  Serious  hard  work, 
it  has  been  said,  is  the  most  efficacious  allevi- 
ation for  sorrow,  and  the  next  best  probably 
is  hard  riding  on  a  favorite  hobby. 

But  poor  Lady  Sempronia  had  no  help  in 
bearing  her  grief  from  either  one  of  these ; 
and  it  was  a  very  heavy  burden  to  bear. 

There  were  circumstances  that  made  it  a 
very  specially  and  exceptionally  sore  sorrow 
to  the  bereaved  parents ;  and  these  circum- 
stances must  be  as  briefly  as  may  be  related. 

The  two  brothers,  Oliver  and  Theophilus 
Lindisfarn,  had  married,  as  has  been  said, 
nearly  about  the  same  time.  Tlie  marriage 
of  the  elder  brother  remained  childless.  But 
to  the  younger,  a  son,  Julian,  was  born  about 
(I  think,  in)  the  year  1793.  Of  course  the 
childless  wife  of  the  squire  was  a  little  envi- 
ous, and  the  happy  wife  of  the  Churchman  a 
little  exultant, — pardonably  in  either  case, 
xis  the  years  slipped  away,  the  probability 
that  the  little  Julian  would  be  the  heir  to 
the  Lindisfai-n  property  grew  greater.  When , 
he  being  at  the  time  about  five  years  old,  his 
aunt,  the  squire's  wife,  died,  his  chance  was 
somewhat  diminished,  for  there  was  the  prob- 
ability that  his  uncle  would  marry  again.  He 
was  about  thirteen  years  old  when  that  event 
did  happen.  But  when,  some  two  years  later, 
his  uncle's  second  wife  died,  leaving  him,  as 
the  reader  knows,  only  two  twin  daughters, 
the  probability  that  Julian  must  be  the  heir 
had  become  all  but  a  certainty. 

Under  these  circumstances,  with  a  silly, 
adoring,  fine  lady  mother,  and  an  indulgent, 
placid,  absent,  archa3ological  father,  it  is  per- 
haps not  surprising  that  Julian,  kept  at  home 
in  compliance  with  his  mother's  urgent  de- 
sire, to  "read  "  with  a  tutor  at  Silverton, 
went — as  the  common  saying  expressively 
phrases  it — to  the  bad.  Of  course  that  down 
ward  journey — "  to  the  bad  " — took  some  lit 


16  LINDISFARN    CHASE. 

tie  time  in  making.  And  Julian  was  just  a  thing  as  being  too  steady ;  tliat  young  as 
over  twenty-one  when  he  reached  the  had  al-  Freddy  Falconer  was, — three  or  four  years 
together.  There  were  cavalry  barracks  at  Julian's  junior, — it  was  on  the  cards  that 
Silverton,  and  there  was  always  a  cavalry  young  Lindisfarn  might  get  more  harm  from 
regiment  stationed  there.  The  younger  of  \  young  Falconer  than  the  reverse.  But  of 
the  officers  were  naturally  enough  among  the  i  course  the  prudent  old  gentlemen,  whose  ob- 
most  habitual  associates  of  the  young  heir  of  I  servation  suggested  to  them  such  remarks, 
Lindisfai'n.  And  though  it  may  vei'y  well  I  were  too  prudent  to  make  them  out  loud, 
be  that  no  one  of  those  young  men  went  al-  Certain  it  was,  that  young  Lindisfarn  did 
together  to  the  bad  himself,  yet  there  can  be  not  imitate  his  steady  friend's  prudence  in 
little  doubt  that  they  helped  to  forward  Ju-  j  the  matter  of  his  expenses.  Julian,  on  the 
lian  on  his  road  thither.  '  contrary,  always  exceeded  his  more  than  lib- 


His  most  intimate  friend  and  associate, 
however,  at  that  time — when  he  was  about 
from  twenty  to  one-and-twenty,  that  is  to 
say — was  Frederick  Falconer.  x\nd  all  those 
— his  parents  among  the  rest — who  had  seen 


eral  allowance,  and  was  always  importuning 
his  father  for  money.  And  the  easy,  absent 
old  canon,  careless  in  money  matters  and 
culpably  extravagant  on  his  own  account, 
did,  Avithout  much  resistance,  and  without 


with  some  alarm  that  Julian  was  becoming  i  any  such  inquiries  as  he  ought  in  common 
very  "wild,"  considered  that  his  intimacy  prudence  to  have  made,  supply  his  son  with 
with  so  steady  and  well-conducted  a  young  i  sums,  which  at  the  end  of  the  year  very  seri- 
man  as  the  banker's  son  was,  at  all  events,  a  ously  increased  the  balance  against  him  in 
good  sign.      The  careful  old  banker,  on  the  :  Messrs.   Falconer  and   Fishbourne's    books. 


other  hand,  was  by  no  means  equally  well 
pleased  with  the  intimacy  between  the  two 
young  men.  It  was  difficult,  however,  to  in- 
terfere to  put  a  stop  to  it,  without  taking 
unpleasantly  strong  measures,  which  would 
have  caused  much  scandal  and  heartburning 
and  enmity  in  the  small  social  circle  of  a 
little  country  town.  Old  Mr.  Falconer  had, 
moreover,  much  confidence  in  the  steadiness 
and  good  principles  of  his  son.  Some  of  the 
young  cavalry  officers,  whose  society  the  two 
Silverton  youths  frequented,  were  men  of 
large  means  ;  and  stories  were  rife  in  Silver- 
ton  of  orgies  and  escapades  which,  in  varied 
ways,  involved  expenditure  on  no  inconsid- 
erable scale.  There  were  excursions  to  dis- 
tant race-courses ;  and  more  uncertain  and 
cautiously  whispei'cd  rumors  of  nights  spent 
in  rooms  of  the  barracks,  when  suppers  and 
champagne,  in  whatever  abundance,  were  the 
least  dangerous  and  objectionable  portion  of 
the  night's  amusement.  Frederick  Falconer, 
however,  never  exceeded  his  liberal,  but  not 
uni-easonably  large,  allowance,  and  never  ap- 
peared in  want  of  money  ;  and  the  old  banker 
considered  that  to  be  out  of  debt  was  to  be 
out  of  danger,  and  that  a  young  man  who 
lived  strictly  within  his  means,  and  always 
made  his  quarter's  allowance  supply  his 
quarterly  expenditure,  could  not  be  going  far 
wrong.  There  were  not  wanting  in  Silverton, 
however,  one  or  two  shrewd  old  fellows,  who 
observed  to  one  another,  that  there  Avas  such 


And  then  "  my  brother  Noll  "  had  to  be  ap- 
plied to  for  assistance.  And  the  jolly  old 
squire — after  roaring  his  indignation  in  the 
bank  parlor,  in  tones  which  made  every  pane 
in  the  windows  vibrate,  and  caused  Mr.  Fish- 
bourne  to  shake  in  unison  with  them  in  his 
shoes,  and  Mr.  Falconer  to  jump  from  his 
chair  with  the  momentary  idea  of  clapping 
his  hand  on  Mr.  Lindisfarn 's  mouth,  before 
it  had  made  known  the  business  in  hand  to 
half  Silverton — lent  the  money  out  of  funds 
laid  aside  for  the  provision  of  his  daughters, 
and  forgot  the  transaction  before  the  end  of 
the  week. 

And  then  it  was  the  same  thing  all  over  again , 
or  rather  a  similar  thing  on  a  much  extended 
scale.  "  Major  rerum  nascitur  ordo,^'  as  is 
ever  the  case  in  such  careers  as  Julian  Lin- 
disfarn was  running ;  for  the  march  to  the 
devil  always  has  to  be  played  with  a  rapidly 
crescendo  movement. 

And  then — and  then, — to  make  a  very 
sad  story  as  short  a  one  as  may  be, — one 
fine  morning,  in  the  year  1814,  Julian  Lindis- 
farn was  missing  from  his  father's  house,  and 
the  bed  in  which  he  was  supposed  to  have 
slept  was  found  not  to  have  been  occupied. 
And  it  did  come  to  the  ears  of  some  of  those 
prudent  old  observers  of  their  neighbors'  af- 
fairs, of  whom  I  spoke  before,  that  Mr  Thor- 
burn,  the  Minor  Canon,  had  told  Peter  Glenny, 
the  organist,  that,  returning  home  through 
the  Close  late  that  night,  he  had  seen  young 


LINDISFARN    CHASE.  17 

Falconer  in  close  conflxbulation  with  Julian  of  possibility  that  Julian's  flight  was  acci- 
in  the  shade  of  the  wall  of  his  father's  house  dentally  well  timed  ;  but  it  appeared  hardly 
just  under  the  young  man's  bedroom  window,  credible  that  such  was  the  case. 
Mr.  Frederick,  however,  was  known  by  his  It  wasa  black  day  in  Silverton — that  which 
family  to  have  gone  to  bed  in  his  own  room  brought  this  sad  catastrophe  to  liglit ;  fur  old 
at  a  much  earlier  hour;  and  everybody  in  Dr.  Lindisfarn,  despite  his  faults  and  ccccn- 
Siltferton  ]^new  that  poor  Ned  Thorburn,  tricities,  was  a  popular  man  in  Silverton,  and 
though  ahvays  perfectly  good  for  a  catch  or  a  the  old  squire  at  the  Chase  was  more  than 
glee  till  any  hour  you  please  in  the  morning,  popular, — he  was  exceedingly  beloved,  not 
was  apt  to  be  good  for  little  else  after  twelve  only  in  Silverton,  but  throughout  the  county, 
o'clock  at  night ;  and  certainly  not  good  as  a  The  poor,  sorely-stricken  mother,  too,  thoui-h 
witness  to  the  identity  of  a  person  seen  in  Lady  Sempronia  was  not  much  liked,  could 
dark  sliadow  by  him,  when  coming  home  not  but  be  deeply  pitied  on  this  sad  occasion, 
from  a  remarkably  pleasant  meeting  of  good  It  was  indeed  a  iieavy  blow  on  all  on  whom 
fellows.  And  when  the  facts,  which  the  next  any  part  of  the  reflected  disgrace  fell.  And 
day  brought  to  light,  were  known  in  Silver-  the  partner  of  the  London  house  came  down 
ton,neitherThorburn,norGlenny,  nor  any  of  to  Silverton  ;  and  there  were  long,  mysteri- 
those  few  persons  whose  ears  the  report  of  ous  sittings  with  lawyers  in  the  Ijack  iiarlor, 
the  Minor  Canon's  vision  had  reached,  cared  at  Falconer  and  Fislibourne's  ;  and  the  down- 
to  recur  to  the  circumstances.  1  stricken  father,  with  bowed  white  head,  had 
The  terrible  facts  were  shortly  these  : —  to  be  there  ;  and  the  hearty  old  squire,  of 
The  London  mail,  which  reached  Silverton  !  whom  men  remarked  that  he  looked  suddenly 
on  the  very  morning  on  which  Julian  disap-  \  ten  years  older,  had  to  be  there.  And  it  was 
peared  thence,  brought  letters  to  i\Iessrs.  i  said  that  the  London  firm  behaved  forbear- 
Falconer  and  Fishbourne,  which  made  it  evi-  1  ingly  and  well ;  and  that  the  Silverton  banker 
dent  that  the  signature  of  their  firm  had  been  ,  had  behaved  equally  well ;  and  though  no- 
forged  to  drafts  for  very  heavy  amounts  on  \  body  knew  what  arrangements  had  been  c*me 
their  London  correspondents.     The  execution  j  to  respecting  the  loss  of  the  money,  it  was 


of  the  forgery  was  so  admirable  that  it  was  j 
no  wonder  that  the  fraud  had  been  successful. 


known  that  there  would  be  no  prosecution, 
and  that  the  lamentable  facts  would  be  hushed 


It  is  not  necessary  to  detail  the  circumstances  I  up,  as  far  as  possible 


which,  even  if  Julian's  flight  had  not  imme- 
diately pointed  him  out  as  the  criminal,  abun- 
dantly sufiiced  to  bring  the  guilt  home  to  him. 
It  is  suflicient  to  state  that  there  was  no 
possibility  of  doubt  upon  the  subject.  But 
it  was  at  the  time  thought  very  extraordi- 
nary, even  supposing  that  Julian  Lindisfarn 
was  gifted  with  that  faculty  of  imitation, 
which  might  have  enabled  him  to  counterfeit 
eo  successfully  the  signature  of  the  Silverton 
firm,  that  he  should  have  possessed  not  only 
such  a  general  acquaintance  with  the  nature 
of  banking  business,  as  should  have  taught 
him  how  to  perpetrate  the  fraud  he  contem- 
plated, but  such  a  knowledge  of  the  relations 
between  Messrs.  Falconer  and  Fishbourne  and 
the  London  house  as  must  have  guided  him 
in  his  operations,  and  above  all,  the  informa- 
tion, which  it  seemed  impossible  to  doubt 
that  he  must  have  possessed,  of  the  exact  time 
when  the  course  of  business  communication 
between  the  Silverton  bankers  and  their  Lon- 
don correspondents  must  bring  the  fraud  to 
detection.     It  was  certainly  within  the  limits 


Before  long  it  became  known,  too,  that  the 
miserable  young  man,  who  had  caused  all  this 
wide-spreading  sorrow  and  suifering,  had  suc- 
ceeded in  making  good  his  escape  to  the  oppo- 
site coast  of  France,  in  a  fishing-vessel  be- 
longing to  the  small  fishing-town  at  the  mouth 
of  the  estuary  of  the  Sill,  about  five  or  six 
miles  from  Silverton.  Under  the  miserable 
circumstances  of  the  case,  it  was  a  relief  to 
his  family  to  know  that  he  was  out  of  the 
country.  For  those  were  days  in  which 
death  was  the  penalty  of  forgery,  and  it  was 
one  of  the  crimes  to  which  it  was  deemed  ne- 
cessary to  show  no  mercy. 

A  little  later,  news  reached  Silverton,  that 
the  lost  one  had  left  France  for  America  :  and  ' 
it  was  known  that  the  heir  to  the  respected 
old  name  and  fine  estate  of  Lindisfarn  was  an 
exiled  wanderer,  none  knew  where,  in  the 
Xew  World.  For  if  Julian  had  never  scru- 
pled before  his  full  to  importune  his  father 
for  money,  shame, ^or  some  other  feeling,  pre- 
vented him  from  ever  making  any  application 
to  him  afterward.     Ilad  it  been  possible  to 


18 


obtain  such  information  as  might  have  made 
it  practicable  to  communicate  with  him,  he 
would  not  have  been  left  without  the  means 
of  support.  But  from  the  day  of  his  escape 
no  word  came  from  him  ;  nor,  beyond  the  fact 
of  his  landing  in  America,  could  any  trace 
of  him  be  discovered. 

And  so  the  little  girl  at  Lindisfarn  Chase, 
Julian's  Cousin  Kate,  then  between  eight  a,nd 
nine  jears  old,  had  to  be  taught  that  she 
must  forget  all  about  Cousin  Julian,  and  name 
his  name  no  more.  To  the  child  this  was  of 
course  not  difficult.  The  Silverton  public, 
also,  when  they  had  had  their  talk  ;  when 
some  had  declared  that  they  never  could 
have  believed  such  a  thing  possible,  while 
others  less  loudly  but  more  pertinaciously  as- 
serted that  they  had  all  along  foreseen  that 
Julian  Lindisfarn's  career  must  needs  lead  to 
some  such  catastrophe  ;  and  when  Mr.  Fred- 
erick Falconer  had  expressed  to  a  sufficient 
number  of  persons  the  shock  and  astonish- 
ment which  this  unhappy  business  had  been 
to  him  ;  had  admitted  that  he  knew  poor  Ju- 
lian to  be  more  dissipated  than  he  could  have 
wished,  but  had  always  deemed  him  the  soul 
of  honor  and  integrity,  and  had  sufficiently 
often  "  prayed  God  that  it  might  be  a  warn- 
ing to  him  for  life  of  the  necessity  of  care  in 
the  choice  of  associates," — then  Julian  Lin- 
disfarn was  forgotten  in  Silverton,  and  his 
place  knew  him  no  more. 

Of  course,  it  was  not  so  up  at  the  Chase  ; 
and  still  less  so  in  the  now  still  and  quiet  old 
house  in  the  Close.  But,  save  when  the  in- 
corrigible canon  would  now  and  then  throw 
poor  Lady  Sempronia  into  a  fit  of  hysterics, 
which  sent  her  to  bed  for  eight-and-forty 
hours,  by  speaking  of  his  son  in  total  obliv- 
ion of  all  the  misery  which  had  fallen  on 
him,  his  name  was  never  heard. 

Thei'e  was  one  other  house,  not  in  but  near 
Silverton,  where  the  fugitive  was  not  forgot- 
ten, nor  the  sound  of  his  name  unheard. 
There  was  another  chapter  in  the  little  edi- 
fying story  of  Julian  Lindisfarn's  Silverton 
life,  of  which  very  little  was  known  at  that 
time  to  his  friends  or  to  any  one  in  Silverton  ; 
and  which  may  here  be  touched  on  as  lightly, 
and  got  over  as  quickly,  as  possible  ;  though 
subsequent  events  make  it  absolutely  neces- 
sary to  the  understanding  of  the  sequel  of 
the  history  to  give  a  eucciact  statement  of  the 
facts. 

Stretching  along  the  coast  and  far  into  the 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


interior  of  the  country,  there  was  a  very  ex- 
tensive district  of  wild  moorland,  which  ran 
up  to  within  about  ten  miles  from  Silverton. 
Sill  Moor,  as  this  tract  of  land  is  called, 
was — and  is  still  in  a  smaller  degree — a  pe- 
culiar district  in  many  respects  ;  and  the  few 
small  villages,  which  are  scattered  at  great 
distances  from  each  other  over  its  wide  sur- 
face, are  inhabited  or  were  so  forty  years  ago, 
by  a  peculiar  and  singularly  wild  population. 
In  one  of  those  moor  villages,  about  fifteen 
miles  from  Silverton,  which  it  will  be  neces- 
sary hereafter  to  speak  of  more  at  length, 
there  was  a  somewhat  better  house  than  most 
of  the  others  around  it.  In  that  house  there 
lived  an  old  widowed  man,  whose  name  was 
Jared  Mallory,  and  who  was,  and  for  many 
years  had  been,  the  clerk  of  the  neighboring 
ancient  church,  which  was  the  parish  church 
of  an  immense  district  of  moorland.  The 
village  was  called  Chewton-in-the-Moor  ;  and 
the  living  was  held  by  Dr.  Lindisfarn  with 
his  Canonry.  And  in  Jared  ^lallory's  lone 
house  lived  with  him  Barbara  Mallory,  his 
daughter.  And  there  was  no  girl  in  Silver- 
ton,  or  in  all  the  country-side,  so  beautiful  as 
Barbara  IMallory,  the  wild  moor-flower.  And 
on  that  fatal  morning  of  Julian's  flight,  he 
did  not  make  straight  for  the  fishing  village 
on  the  coast  at  which  he  embarked,  but  went 
round  by  Chewton-in-the-Moor.  And  there 
in  the  gray  moor  mist,  a  little  before  the  dawn, 
under  the  shelter  of  one  of  the  huge  gray 
boulder-stones  that  stud  the  moor,  there  was 
one  of  those  partings  that  leave  a  scar  upon 
the  heart  which  no  after-time  can  heal.  And 
beautiful  Barbara  I\Iallory,  as  she  clung  half 
frantically  with  one  arm  to  the  man,  whom 
the  fear  at  his  heels  was  compelling  to  tear 
himself  away  from  her,  pressed  a  child  six 
months  old  to  her  breast  with  the  other.  But 
though  she  was  a  mother,  the  villagers  still 
called  her  Bab  Mallory.  And  the  desolation 
in  that  lone  moorland  house  was  even  worse 
than  the  desolation  in  the  childless  house  in 
the  Close. 

No  more  was  heard  in  Silverton  of  Julian 
Lindisfarn  for  three  years  after  the  date  of 
his  flight.  Then  came-a  report  of  his  death, 
vague  and  unaccompanied  by  any  particulars  ; 
but  referring  to  persons  and  places,  which  en- 
abled an  agent  sent  out  to  America  by  his 
family,  to  ascertain  the  following  facts.  Af- 
ter having  been  about  a  twelvemonth  in  the 
United  States,  he  passed  into  Canada,  and 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


19 


there,  it  appeared,  became  associated  with  a 
small  band  of  independent  adventurers,  some 
twenty  in  number,  bound  on  a  journey  into 
the  fur  regions  of  the  far  north-west.  The 
party  made,  it  seemed,  one  tolerably  fortunate 
journey,  and  returned  for  a  second  venture  i,n 
the  following  year.  But  having  been  sur- 
prised one  night  in  their  camp,  on  the  fur- 
ther side  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  by  a  small 
band  of  marauding  Indians,  not  much  exceed- 
ing their  own  in  number,  they  had  had  to  en- 
gage in  a  desperate  struggle  in  which  several 
of  both  parties  were  slain.  Among  these  was 
Julian  Lindisfarn.  Of  course  as  large  mate- 
rial interests  depended  on  the  fact  of  his  death, 
it  was  desirable  that  the  evidence  of  it  should 
be  satisfactory.  And  that  which  the  agent, 
who  had  been  sent  to  America  for  the  pur- 
pose, was  enabled  to  obtain,  was  perfectly  so. 
He  had  spoken  with,  and  brought  back  with 
him  the  authenticated  testimony  of  three  sur- 


vivors of  the  fray  with  the  Indians,  who  had 
seen  him  slain  by  them. 

These  facts  became  known  to  his  family  in 
1817.  The  unfortunate  young  man  must 
have  been  about  four-and-tvventy  at  the  time 
of  his  death.  This  was  the  event  that  so  ma- 
terially changed,  as  has  been  remarked,  the 
state  of  things  at  Lindisfarn  Chase.  Mr.  Oli- 
ver Lindisfarn's  twin  daughters  became  the 
coheiresses  of  Lindisfarn. 

It  cannot  be  supposed  that  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, Julian  Lindisfarn's  death  should 
have  been  felt  to  be  otherwise  than  a  fortunate 
event  by  most  of  the  members  of  his  family. 
The  Silverton  public  naturally  felt,  and  said, 
that  it  was  the  best  thing  that  could  have 
happened  in  every  point  of  view.  Some  ad- 
ditional tears  wetted  poor  Lady  Sempronia'a 
pillow.  But  it  was  in  the  lone  house  in  the 
moor  that  Julian  Lindisfarn's  death  caused 
the  sharpest  pang. 


20 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
THE   FAMILY   AT   THE   CHASE. 

In  consequence  of  the  circumstances  of  the 
family  history  narrated  in  the  preceding  chap- 
ter, jSIargaret  Lindisfarn  was  about  to  return 
to  the  home  of  her  ancestors  in  the  recognized 
position  of  co-heiress  to  the  family  estates, — 
a  sufSciently  brilliant  destiny,  considering 
that  the  property  Avas  a  good  and  well-paid 
four  thousand  a  year,  unencumbered  by  mort- 
gage, debt,  or  other  claims  of  any  sort.  Had 
those  circumstances  not  occurred, — had  Ju- 
lian Lindisfarn  been  still  living, — jMargaret's 
position,  instead  of  being  a  brighter  one  than 
that  of  her  sister,  as  it  had  appeared  to  be  at 
the  time  when  she  had  been  adopted  by  the 
De  Rennevilles,  and  Kate  had  only  her  god- 
mother's sis  thousand  pounds  to  look  to, 
would  have  now  been  a  far  less  splendid  one. 
For  shortly  l)efore  the  time  at  which  she  was 
returning  from  Paris  to  Silverton,  all  the 
magnificent  De  Rennevillc  prospects  had  sud- 
denly made  themselves  wings  and  flown  away. 

The  large  fortune  of  the  Baron  de  Ilenne- 
ville  had  been,  like  that  of  many  another 
Fi-enchman  bearing  a  name  indicative  of  for- 
mer territorial  greatness,  entirely  a  financial 
and  not  a  territorial  one.  And  that  inca- 
pacity for  leaving  well  alone,  which  is  gener- 
ated by  the  habitual  excitement  of  a  life  spent 
in  speculation,  and  which  has  wrecked  so 
many  a  colossal  fabric  of  commercial  great- 
ness, was  fatal  to  that  of  M.  de  Rcnneville. 
A  series  of  unfortunate  operations  on  the 
Paris  Bourse  had  ended  by  leaving  him  an 
utterly  ruined  man.  And  there  was  an  end 
of  all  expectations  from  Margaret's  Parisian 
relatives. 

Of  course  the  shock  of  this  calamity  was 
very  diiferently  felt  from  what  it  would  have 
been,  had  it  occurred  during  the  lifetime  of 
Julian  Lindisfarn.  It  was  very  materially 
modified  to  the  young  lady  herself,  and  doubt- 
less also  to  the  kind  relatives  who  had  stood 
in  the  position  of  parents  to  her  from  her  in- 
fancy, by  the  knowledge  that  there  was  a  very 
substantial  English  inheritance  to  fall  back 
on,  now  that  the  more  splendid  but  less  se- 
cure French  visions  had  faded  away.  Never- 
theless, the  calamity  had  been  felt  very  dis- 
tinctly to  be  a  calamity  by  Jlargaret.  In  the 
first  place,  she  was,  of  course,  laudably  grieved 
to  he  obliged  to  part  with  those  who  had  been 
as  parents  to  her.  In  the  next  place,  she  very 
naturally  looked  forward  with  anything  but 


pleasure  to  a  migration  from  Paris  to  Silver- 
ton,  and  from  the  home  of  an  adoptive  father 
and  mother,  whom  she  knew,  to  that  of  a  real 
father  of  whom  she  knew  nothing.  And  in 
the  third  place,  she  estimated  with  very  prac- 
tical accuracy  the  difference  between  an  heir- 
ess-ship to  some  six  or  seven  thousand  a  year, 
and  an  heiress-ship  to  two  thousand  only. 
For  someliow  or  other  it  happens,  that  this 
is  a  point  on  which  the  most  beautifully 
candide  French  girls  are  generally  found  to 
possess  a  singularly  sound  and  business-like 
knowledge.  "We  are  all  aware  how  cautiously 
and  scrupulously  the  French  system  of  edu- 
cating demoiselles  comme  ilfaut  labors  to  fence 
in  the  enow-like  mental  purity  of  its  pupils 
from  all  such  contact  or  acquaintance  with 
the  world  as  might  involve  the  slightest  risk 
of  producing  a  thought  or  a  sentiment  which 
might  by  possibility  lead  to  something  calcu- 
lated to  blemish  the  perfection  of  that  inge- 
nuite,  which  is  so  eloquently  expressed  by 
every  well-schooled  feature  of  these  carefully 
trained  and  jealously  guarded  maidens.  Nev- 
ertheless, a  due  appreciation  of  the  intimate 
connection  between  cash  and  social  position 
is  not  among  the  tabooed  subjects  of  any 
French  female  schoolroom,  whether  it  be 
under  the  paternal  roof  or  that  of  some  Sacre 
Caeur,  or  other  such  first-rate  conventual  es- 
tablishment. 

For  various  reasons,  therefore,  it  was  a 
black  day  for  poor  jNlargaret  when  she  had 
to  leave  her  Parisian  home  for  an  exile  an 
fond  du  province,  as  she  expressed  it,  in  foggy 
England.  "  At  the  bottom  of  the  province," 
Silverton  certainly  was,  if  the  top  of  it  is  to 
be  supposed  to  be  the  part  nearest  London. 
Cut  the  Silvertonians  had  no  notion  that  the 
"sun  yoked  his  horses  so  fur  from"  their 
western  city  as  to  justify  the  sort  of  idea 
which  Margaret  had  formed  to  herself  of  its 
remoteness.  And  least  of  all  had  the  warm 
hearts  who  on  that  bright  September  after- 
noon were  expecting  the  arrival  of  the  recov- 
ered daughter  of  the  house  at  Lindisfarn 
Chase  the  remotest  idea  that  the  home  to 
which  they  were  eager  to  welcome  her  was 
other  than  on  the  whole  about  the  happiest 
and  most  highly  favored  spot  of  earth's  sur- 
face. 

Kate  was,  as  Lady  Farnleigh  had  promised 
her  she  should  be,  in  very  good  time  to  join 
the  assembled  members  of  the  family  before 
the  hour  at  which  Margaret  was  expected. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


Tlicy  were  all  in  the  long  low  tlrawing-vooiu, 
lined  with  white  panelling  somewhat  yellow 
with  years,  and  gilt  mouldings,  the  four  win- 
dows of  which  looked  out  on  the  terrace  in 
front  of  the  house.  It  was  very  evident,  at  a 
glance,  that  something  out  of  the  ordinary 
routine  of  the  family  life  was  about  to  take 
place.  None  of  those  there  assembled  would 
have  been  in  the  room  at  that  hour  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  things.  And  there  was 
an  unmistakajile  air  of  expectancy,  and  even 
of  a  certain  degree  of  nervousness,  about  them 
all.  Tlie  old  squire  had  caused  an  immense 
fire  to  he  made  in  the  ample  grate  ;  and  was 
very  evidently  suffering  from  the  effects  of  it. 
It  was  a  beautifully  warm  afternoon  ;  but 
the  squire  had  an  idea  that  his  daughter  was 
coming  from  a  southern  clime  where  it  was 
always  very  hot, — and  besides,  the  making 
of  a  big  fire  seemed  to  his  imagination  to  be 
in  some  sort  symbolical  of  welcome.  He  was 
walking  up  and  down  the  long  room,  looking 
out  of  the  windows,  as  he  passed  them,  wip- 
ing his  massive  broad  forehead  and  florid  face 
with  his  silk  handkerchief,  and  consulting  his 
watch  every  two  minutes.  He  was  dressed  in 
a  blue  coat  with  metal  buttons,  yellow  ker- 
seymere waistcoat,  drab  breeches,  top-boots, 
and  a  white  neckcloth.  His  head  was  bald 
in  front,  and  the  long  locks  of  silver  hair 
hung  over  his  coat-collar  behind.  It  is  worth 
while  to  specify  these  particulars  of  his  toi- 
let, for  he  never  appeared  otherwise  before 
dinner. 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  come,  Kate  ;  I  began 
to  think  you  would  have  been  late  !  And  I 
should  not  have  been  pleased  at  that.  I  sup- 
pose her  ladyship  would  not  come  in  to- 
Jay?" 

"  No.  She  thought  she  had  better  not  to- 
uay  ;  I  took  good  care  about  the  time.  It's 
iiot  near  two  yet."' 

"  It  wants  thirteen  minutes,"  said  the 
squire,  again  looking  at  his  watch  :  "  she  can 
hardly  be  here  before  two.  Go  and  listen  if 
you  can  hear  wheels,  Mat ;  you  have  an  ear 
like  a  hare.  " 

The  "Mat"  thus  addressed  was  to  every 
other  human  being  in  Sillshire,  from  the  Earl 
of  Silverton  at  Sillhead  Park  to  the  hostlers 
at  the  Lindisfarn  Arms,  Mr.  Mat.  It  would 
have  altogether  discomposed  him  to  address 
him  as  Mr.  Matthew  Lindisfarn ;  but  he 
would  not  have  liked  anybody  save  the 
squire  to  call  him  plain  "Mat."     He  was 


21 


^Ir.  Mat ;  and  only  recognized  himself  under 
that  name  and  title.  Mr.  Mat  was  a  second 
cousin  of  the  squire ;  and  had  been  received 
into  the  house  by  the  squire's  father,  when 
he  had  been  left  an  orphan  at  twelve  years 
old,  wholly  unprovided  for.  Since  that  time 
he  had  lived,  boy  and  man,  at  LindisRirn 
Chase  ;  and  was  considered  by  himself  and  l)y 
everybody  else,  as  much  and  as  inseparably 
a  part  of  the  place  as  the  old  elms  and  the 
rooks  in  them.  He  was  about  ten  years  the 
squire's  junior,  that  is  to  say  he  was  about 
fifty  at  the  time  of  which  I  am  speaking. 
Mr.  Mat,  looked  at  from  one  point  of  view, 
was  a  very  good-for-nothing  sort  of  fellow ; 
but  looked  at  from  another,  he  was  good  for 
a  great  many  things,  and  by  no  means  value- 
less in  his  place  in  the  world.  He  was  es- 
sentially good-for-nothing  at  the  prime  and 
generally  absolutely  paramount  business  of 
earning  his  own  living.  If  kind  fate  had  not 
popped  him  into  the  special  niche  which 
suited  him  so  well,  he  must  have  starved  or 
lived  in  the  poorhouse.  He  was  perfectly 
well  fitted,  as  far  as  knowledge  went,  to  be 
a  game-keeper,  and  a  first-rate  one.  But  he 
never  would  have  kept  to  his  duties.  The 
very  fact  that  they  ivcre  his  duties,  and  the 
means  of  earning  his  bread,  would  have  made 
them  distasteful  to  him.  Not  that  Mr.  Mat 
was  a  lazy,  or  in  some  sort  even  an  idle,  man. 
He  was  capable  of  great  exertion  upon  occa- 
sions. But  then  the  occasions  must  be  ir- 
regular ones.  His  good  qualities  again  were 
many .  He  was  the  best  farrier  and  veterinary 
surgeon  in  the  country  side  though  totallv 
without  any  science  on  the  subject.  He  had 
a  fine  bass  voice,  a  good  ear,  and  sung  a  good 
song,  or  took  a  part  in  a  glee  in  a  first-rate 
style.  He  was  a  main  support,  accordingly, 
of  the  Silverton  Glee-club,  of  which  the  Rev. 
Minor  Canon  Thorburn  was  president.  But 
unlike  that  reverend  votary  of  Apollo,  Mr. 
Mat,  though  he  liked  his  glass,  was  as  sober 
as  a  judge.  Mr.  Mat,  though  perfectly  able 
to  speak  quite  correct  and  unprovincial  Eng- 
lish, when  he  saw  fit  to  do  so,  was  apt  to  af- 
fect the  Sillshire  dialect,  to  a  certain  degree ; 
and  if  there  chanced  to  be  any  person  present 
whom  Mr.  !Mat  suspected  of  finery  or  Lon- 
don-bred airs,  he  was  sure  to  infuse  a  double 
dose  of  his  beloved  provincial  Doric  into  his 
speech.  He  had  a  special  grudge  against 
any  Sillshire  man  whom  he  suspected  of  being 
ashamed  of  his  own  country  dialect.     And 


22 

Freddy  Falconer  was  the  object  of  his  strong 
dislike  mainly  on  this  ground  ;  and  the  butt 
of  many  a  shaft  from  Mr.  Mat  purposely 
aimed  at  this  weakness.  Often  and  often 
when  Mr.  Fred  was  doing  the  superfine,  es- 
pecially  before  ladies  or  Londoners,  jMr.  Mat 
would  come  across  him  with  a  "  We  Zillshire 
volk,  muster  Vreddy  !  "  to  that  elegant  young 
gentleman's  intense  disgust.  There  was  ac- 
cordingly but  little  love  lost  between  him 
and  Mr.  Mat.  And  upon  one  occasion  Freddy 
had  attempted  to  come  over  jMr.  Mat  by  doing 
the  distant  and  dignified,  and  calling  him 
Mr.  Matthew  Lindisfarn  ;  but  he  brought 
down  upon  himself  such  a  roasting  on  every 
occasion  when  he  and  Mr.  Mat  met  for  the 
next  month  afterwards  that  he  was  fain  not 
to  repeat  the  offence.  Kate,  who  was  a  prime 
flxvorite  with  Mr.  Mat,  and  who  could  hardly 
do  wrong  in  his  eyes,  had  once  ventured  to 
remonstrate  with  him  on  these  provincial 
proclivities,  upon  which  he  had  at  once 
avowed  and  justified  his  partiality. 

"To  think, "he  said,  "  of  a  Lindisfarn  lass" 
— (he  always  spoke  of  the  young  ladies  of  the 
family,  whether  of  the  present  or  of  former 
generations,  as  Lindisfarn  lasses;) — "to 
think  of  a  Lindisfai-n  lass  having  no  ear  vor 
Zillshire  !  Vor  my  part,  I  zem  to  taste  all  the 
pleasant  time  I've  known,  Zillshire  man  and 
boy  for  vivty  years  in  the  zound  of  it,  and  I 
du  love  it.  I  zem  it's  so  homely  and  friendly- 
like.  And,  Miss  Kate,  yew  du  love  it  your- 
self, yew  don't  talk  like  their  vulgar  London 
minced-up  gibberish." 

Mr.  Mat  in  appearance  was  a  great  con- 
trast to  the  squire.  He  was  a  shorter  and 
smaller  man,  though  by  no  means  undersized. 
The  squire  was  six  feet  one,  and  broad  in  pro- 
portion. Mr.  Mat's  head  was  as  black  as  the 
squire's  was  white,  and  whereas  the  latter 
allowed  his  silver  locks  to  fall  almost  on  his 
shoulders,  I\Ir.  Mat  cropped  his  coal-black 
hair  so  short  that  it  stood  up  bristling  like  a 
scrubbing-brush.  lie  had  a  specially  bright 
black  eye  under  a  large  and  bushy  black  eye- 
brow ;  a  remarkably  brilliant  set  of  regular 
teeth  ;  and  would  probably  have  been  a  de- 
cidedly good-looking  man,  if  he  had  not  been 
deeply  marked  with  the  small-pox.  As  it 
was,  it  must  be  admitted  that  Mr.  Mat  was 
far  from  good-looking.  Yet  there  was  a  min- 
gled shrewdness  and  kindly  good-humor  in 
his  face  that  made  it  decidedly  an  agreeable 
one  to  those  who  knew  him  :  and  few   ever 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


found  Mr.  Mat's  ugliness  repulsive  after  a 
week's  acquaintance.  His  dress,  like  that  of 
the  squire,  never  varied.  Before  dinner  he 
always  wore  a  green  coat  with  metal  buttons, 
bearing  on  them  a  fox's  head,  or  some  such 
adornment,  a  scarlet  cloth  waistcoat,  a  col- 
ored neckerchief,  drab  breeches  and  long  buff 
leather  gaiters.  At  dinner,  Mr.  Mat  always 
appeared  in  black  coat  and  trousers,  white 
waistcoat  and  neck-cloth  ;  and,  curiously 
enough, — unless  Fred  Falcone?  led  him  spe- 
cially into  temptation, — with  perfectly  cor- 
rect and  unprovincial  English. 

There  was  one  other  member  of  the  family 
party  present,  who,  though  the  reader  has 
already  heard  of  her,  merits  being  presented 
to  him  a  little  more  formally.  This  was  Miss 
Imogene  Lindisfarn.  She  was,  to  a  yet  greater 
degree  than  Mr.  Mat,  an  inseparable  part  and 
parcel  of  the  Lindisfarn  establishment.  She 
was,  at  the  time  in  question,  in  her  seventy- 
eighth  year,  and  was  the  squire's  aunt.  As 
long  as  he  could  recollect, — and  much  longer, 
therefore,  than  anybody  else  about  the  place, 
except  old  Brian  Wyvill,  the  keeper,  a  brother 
of  the  verger  at  the  cathedral,  could  recollect 
— Miss  Imogene  had  kept  the  keys,  made  the 
tea  for  breakfast,  and  superintended  the  fe- 
male part  of  the  establishment.  She  was 
rather  short,  and  still  hale,  active,  and  as 
upright  as  a  ramrod.  She  always  wore  a 
rich  lavender-colored  silk  dress,  which  as  she 
walked  rustled  an  accompaniment  to  the  pit- 
a-pat of  her  high-heeled  shoes.  A  spotless 
white  crape  cap,  and  equally  spotless  cambric 
handkerchief,  pinned  cornerwise  over  her 
shoulders,  completed  her  attire.  A  very  slight 
touch  of  palsy  gave  a  little  vibratory  motion 
to  her  head,  which  seemed,  when  she  was 
laying  down  the  law,  as  on  domestic  matters 
she  was  rather  apt  to  do,  to  impart  a  sort  of 
defiant  expression  to  her  bearing.  She  never 
appeared  without  a  little  basket  full  of  keys 
in  her  hand,  and  the  perpetual  never-changed 
volume  of  Clarissa  Harlow,  already  mentioned, 
She  was  the  only  member  of  the  fiimily  who 
addressed  the  squire  as  "  Mr.  Lindisfarn." 
Mr.  Mat  always  called  him  "  squire ;  "  and 
Kate,  somewhat  irreverently,  but  to  her  fa- 
ther's great  delight,  was  wont  to  call  him 
"  Noll."  As  for  Miss  Imogene,  she  had 
never  been  called  anything  but  "  IMiss  Immy  " 
by  any  human  being  for  the  last  sixty  years. 

]Miss  Immy  had  cake  and  wine,  and  a  most 
delicately  cut  plate  of  sandwiches,  on  a  tray 


LINDISFARN    CHASE 


nci\r  at  hand,  prepared  ready  to  be  adminis- 
tered to  the  traveller  on  the  instant  of  licr  ar- 
rival.    She  had  also  a  reserve  of  tea  and  ex- 
quisite Sillshire  cream,  in  case  that  kind  of 
refreshment  should  be  preferred  ;  and  she  had 
thrice,  in  the  last  quarter  of  an  hour,  ascer- 
tained b}^  personal  inspection  that  the  kettle 
was  boiling,    ^liss  Immy  had  meditated  much  | 
on  the  question  what  kind  of  refection  would  | 
probably  be   most   in   accordance   with   the  j 
habits  of  the  Parisian-bred  stranger  ;  and  she  ; 
had    brought   all   that  she  could  remember 
to  have  ever  heard  on  the  subject  of  French 
modes  of  life  to  bear  on  the  subject.     But ' 
soupc  maigre  and  frogs  were  the  only  things 
that  had  presented  themselves  to  her  mind  as  ' 
adapted  by  any  special  propriety  for  the  oc- 
casion, and  as  both  these  were  for  different  i 
reasons  out  of  her  reach,  she  had  been  forced  j 
to  fall  back  on  English  ideas.     But  she  was  j 
not  without   uncomfortable   misgivings  that 
very  possibly   the   foreign-bred   young  lady 
might  have  requirements  of  some  wholly  un- 
expected and  unimagined  kind. 

It  was  evident,  indeed,  that  they  were  all 
a  little  nervous  in  their  different  ways  ;  and 
very  naturally  so.  Mr.  Mat  was  least  troub- 
led by  any  feeling  of  the  kind  ;  being  saved 
from  it  by  the  entirety  of  his  conviction  that 
no  human  being  could  do  otherwise  than  bet- 
ter their  condition  and  increase  their  happi- 
nes8»  by  coming  from  any  other  part  of  the 
world  to  Sillshire. 

At  length ,  Mr.  Mat  cried,  "  Hark  !  There 
is  the  carriage !  Yes,  there  it  is.  They've 
just  passed  the  lodge."  And  a,ll  of  them 
hurried  out  to  the  porch  in  the  centre  of  the 
terrace  in  front  of  the  house,  where  they  were 
juined  by  three  or  four  fine  dogs,  all  proving 
their  participation  in  the  excitement  of  the 
moment  by  barking  vociferously.  Old  Brian 
Wyvill,  the  octogenarian  keeper,  came  hob- 
bling up  after  them.  Mr.  Banting,  the  old 
butler,  followed  by  a  couple  of  rustics  still 
struggling  with  the  scarcely  completed  oper- 
ation of  getting  their  arms  into  their  old-fash- 
ioned liveries,  came  running  out  at  the  door. 
Coachman  and  groom  had  gone  with  the  car- 
riage to  meet  Miss  Margaret  at  Silverton,  and 
were  now  coming  up  the  drive  from  the  lodge. 
The  female  portion  of  the  establishment  had 
assembled  just  inside  the  hall-door,  grouping 
themselves  in  attitudes  which  suggested  a 
strong  contest  in  their  minds  between  curios- 
ity and  fear,  and  readiness  to  take  to  flight 


23 

at  the  shortest  notice,  on  tlie  first  appearance 
of  danger. 

Crunch  went  the  gravel !  Pit-a-pat  went 
most  of  the  hearts  there  at  a  somewhat  accel- 
erated pace  !  The  dogs  barked  more  furiously 
than  ever.  The  rooks  began  flying  in  circles 
around  their  ancient  city  up  in  the  elm-clump 
on  the  left  side  of  the  house,  and  holding  a 
very  tumultuous  meeting  to  inquire  into  the 
nature  of  the  unusual  circumstances  taking 
place  beneath  them.  The  squire  hallooed  to 
the  dogs  to  be  quiet,  in  a  great  mellow,  mu- 
sical voice,  producing  a  larger  volume  of  sound 
than  all  the  rest  of  the  noises  put  together. 
The  peacocks  on  the  wall  of  the  garden  be- 
hind the  elm-clump,  stimulated  by  emulation, 
screamed  their  utmost.  And  in  the  midst  of 
all  this  uproar,  Thomas  Tibbs,  the  coachman, 
pulled  up  his  horses  exactly  at  the  door,  with 
a  profound  consciousness  that  Pans  could  do 
no  better  in  that  department  at  all  events. 

chapter  v. 
Margaret's  first  day  at  home. 

Ix  the  next  instant,  half  a  dozen  eager  hands 
had  pulled  open  the  carriage-door  ;  and  an 
exceedingly  elegant  and  admirably  dressed  fig- 
ure sprang  from  it,  and  with  one  bound,  as 
it  seemed,  executed  with  such  marvellous  skill 
that  the  process  involved  no  awkward  move- 
ment, and  no  derangement  of  the  elegant  cos- 
tume, threw  itself  on  its  knees  at  the  feet  of 
the  astonished  squire. 

"Monpere/"  cried  Miss  Margaret,  in  an 
accent  so  admirably  fitted  for  the  occasion 
that  it  seemed  to  include  an  exhaustive  expo- 
sition of  all  the  sentiments  that  a  jeune  per- 
sonne  hien  elevee  might,  could,  should,  would, 
and  ought  to  feel  on  returning  after  long  ab- 
sence to  the  parental  roof. 

Her  attitude  was  admirable.  The  heavy 
folds  of  her  rich  silk  dress  fell  down  behind, 
sloping  out  on  the  stone  step  as  artistically  as 
if  they  had  been  arranged  by  skilful  hands 
after  her  position  had  been  assumed.  Her 
clasped  hands  were  raised  toward  the  squire's 
face  with  an  expression  that  would  have  ar- 
rested the  fall  of  the  axe  in  the  hands  of  an 
executioner.  And  her  upturned  head  showed 
to  all  present  a  very  beautiful  face,  in  which 
the  most  striking  feature,  as  it  was  then  seen, 
was  a  magnificent  pair  of  large,  dark,  liquid 
eyes. 

"  My  dear  child  !  "  cried  the  squire  in  a 
stentorian  voice,  that  made  tlie  fair  girl  at 


24 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


his  feet  start  just  a  little — (but  she  recovered 
herself  instantly) — "  My  dear  child  !  Glad 
to  see  thee  !  Welcome  to  Lindisfarn.  Wel- 
come home,  lass !  "  he  continued,  evidently 
desirous  of  getting  her  up,  if  possible,  but 
much  puzzled  about  the  proper  Avay  of  han- 
dling her,  if  indeed  there  were  any  proper 
way. 

"ilfow  pere .'  "  reiterated  his  daughter,  with 
a  yet  more  heart-rending  filial  intonation  on 
the  word. 

Old  Brian  Wyvill  was  affected  by  it  (like 
the  audience  recorded  as  having  been  melted 
to  tears  by  a  great  tragedian's  pronunciation 
of  the  word  "  Mesopotamia  "),  and  drew  the 
back  of  his  rough  hand  across  his  eyes.  The 
lady's-maid  whispered  to  the  housekeeper 
that  it  was  "  beautiful !  "  But  Miss  Immy, 
greatly  startled,  trotted  up  to  the  still  kneel- 
ing young  lady,  with  that  peculiar  little 
short-stepping  amble  of  hers,  holding  a  bot- 
tle of  salts  in  her  tremulous  hand,  which  she 
poked  under  Margaret's  nose,  saying,  as  she 
did  so,  "Poor  thing,  the  journey!  It  has 
been  too  much  for  her  !  " 

INIargaret  winked  and  caught  her  breath, 
and  the  tears  came  into  her  fine  eyes.  Hu- 
man nature  could  not  have  done  less,  with 
Miss  Immy's  salts  under  her  nose ;  but  she 
did  not  belie  her  training,  and  showed  herself 
equal  to  the  occasion. 

'■-De  (jrace,  inadame!"  she  said,  putting 
aside  ]\Iiss  Immy's  bottle  with  one  exquisitely 
gloved  hand.  "  It  is  my  father  I  see  !  "  she 
added,  with  a  very  slight  foreign  accent. 

"  To  be  zure.  Miss  Margy  !  "  struck  in  Mr. 
Mat.  "  To  be  zure  it's  your  vather  !  And 
he  wouldn'  t  hurt  ye  on  ony  account.  Don't 
you  be  afraid  of  the  squire.  He  has  no  more 
vice  in  him  than  a  lamb  !  " 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Mat!  My  girl  afraid 
of  me  !  "  shouted  the  squire. 

"My  opinion  is,  the  lass  is  frighted  !  *'  re- 
turned Mr.  Mat,  in  an  undertone  to  the 
squire,  looking  at  Margaret  shrewdly  as  he 
spoke,  with  the  sort  of  observant  look  with 
which  he  would  have  examined  a  sick  ani- 
mal. "Mayhap,"  he  continued  in  the  same 
aside  tone,  "it's  the  dogs.  I'll  take  'cm 
off." 

"  I'm  right  glad  to  hear  you  speak  Eng- 
lish, and  speak  it  very  well  too,  my  dear.  I 
was  beginning  to  be  afraid  you  could  speak 
nothing  but  French,"  said  the  squire. 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir,"  said  his  daughter.     She 


had  now  risen  to  her  feet,  rather  disappointed 
that  her  father  had  not  raised  her  from  the 
ground,  and  pressed  her  to  his  bosom,  as  he 
probably  would  have  done  if  he  had  not  been 
too  much  afraid  of  injuring  her  toilet, — "  Oh, 
yes,  sir,  thanks  to  my  kind  instructors,  I  have 
cultivated  my  native  language."  * 

"  That's  a  comfort,"  said  the  squire  ;  "  for 
1  am  ashamed  to  say  that  I  have  cultivated 
no  other  !  But  Kate  there,  and  Lady  Farn- 
leigh,  will  talk  to  you  in  French  as  long  as 
you  like." 

Upon  this,  Kate,  who  had  hitherto  hung 
back,  looking  on  the  scene  which  has  been 
described  with  a  sort  of  dismayed  suri^rise, 
that  had  the  effect  of  making  her  feel  all  of 
a  sudden  shy  toward  her  sister,  came  for- 
ward, and  putting  her  ann  round  INIargaret's 
waist,  gave  her  a  kiss,  saying  as  she  did  so, 
"  Shall  we  go  in,  dear?  You  must  be  tired. 
And  Miss  Immy  will  not  be  contented  till 
you  have  had  something  to  eat  and  drink." 

"AfascEwr.'"  exclaimed  the  new-comer; 
again  compressing  into  that  -word  a  whole 
homily  for  the  benefit  of  the  bystanders  on 
all  the  beauty  and  sanctity  of  that  sweet  re- 
lationship, and  returning  Kate's  kiss  first 
on  one  cheek  and  then  on  the  other. 

And  then  they  all  went  into  the  drawing- 
room,  the  two  sisters  walking  with  their 
arms  round  each  other's  waists. 

They  wei-e  singularly  alike,  and  yet  sin- 
gularly contrasted,  those  twin  Lindisfarn 
lasses, — to  use  Mr.  Mat's  mode  of  speech. 
Kate  was  a  little  the  taller  of  the  two  ;  a 
very  little  ;  but  till  one  saw  the  sisters  side 
by  side,  as  they  were  then  walking  across  the 
hall  to  the  drawing-room,  the  difference  of 
height  in  Kate's  favor  might  have  been  sup- 
posed to  be  greater  than  it  really  was.  Both 
had  a  magnificent  abundance  of  that  dark, 
chestnut  hair,  the  rich  brown  gloss  of  which 
really  does  imitate  the  color  of  a  ripe  horse- 
chestnut  fresh  from  its  husk.  But  Kate 
wore  hers  in  large  heavy  curls  on  either  side 
of  her  face  and  neck,  while  Margaret's  was 
arranged  in  exquisitely  neat  liands  bound 
closely  round  the  small  and  classically  shaped 
head.  Both  had  fine  eyes ;  but  with  respect 
to  that  diiEeultly  described  feature,  it  was 
much  less  easy  to  say  in  what  the  two  sisters 
differed,  and  in  what  they  were  alike,  than 
in  the  more  simple  matter  of  the  hair.  At 
first  sight  one  was  inclined  to  say  that  the 
eyes  were  totally  different  in  the  two.     Then 


LINDISFARN    CHASE 


a  closer  examination  convinced  the  observer 
that  in  both  girls  they  were  large,  well- 
opened,  and  marked  by  that  specially  limpid 
appeararice  which  suggests  the  same  idea  of 
great  depth  which  is  given  by  an  unruffled 
and  perfectly  pellucid  pool  of  still  water.  In 
both  girls  tlioy  were  of  that  beautiful  brown 
color,  which  is  so  frequently  found  in  con- 
junction with  the  above-noted  appearance. 
And  yet,  notwithstanding  all  these  points  of 
similarity,  the  eyes  of  the  two  sisters, — or 
perhaps  it  would  be  ipore  accurate  to  say  the 
expression  of  them, — were  remarkably  differ- 
ent. Those  who  saw  them  both,  when  no 
particular  emotion  was  affecting  the  expres- 
sion of  their  features,  would  have  said  that 
^Margaret's  eyes  were  the  more  tender  and 
loving.  But  those  who  knew  Kate  well 
would  have  said,  "  Wait  till  the  eyes  have 
some  special  message  of  tenderness  from  the 
heart,  and  ^/«n  look  at  them."  Kate's  eyes 
were  the  more  mobile  and  changeful  in  ex- 
pression ;  Margaret's,  the  more  languishing. 
Tiicie  was  perhaps  moi-e  of  intellect  in  the 
furmcr,  more  of  sentiment  in  the  latter.  In 
complexion  the  difference  was  most  complete 
and  decided.  Kate's  complexion  was  a  brill- 
iant one.  Though  the  skin  was  as  perfectly 
transparent  as  the  purest  crystal,  and  even 
the  most  transient  emotion  betrayed  itself  in 
the  heightened  or  diminished  color  of  the 
cheek,  its  own  proper  hue  was  of  a  somewhat 
richer  tint  than  that  of  the  hedge-rose.  The 
whole  of  Margaret's  face,  on  the  contrary, 
was  perfectly  pale.  The  skin  was  of  that 
beautiful  satiny  testui-e,  and  alabaster-like 
purity  of  white,  which  is  felt  by  many  men 
to  bo  more  beautiful  than  any  the  most  ex- 
quisite coloring.  Perhaps  this  absolute  ab- 
sence of  color  helped  to  impart  to  the  eyes 
of  ^Margaret  Lindisfarn  that  peculiar  depth 
and  languishing  appearance  of  tenderness 
which  so  remarkably  characterized  them. 
Both  girls  had  specially  beautiful  and  slen- 
der iigures ;  but  that  of  Kate  had  more  of 
elasticity  and  vigor  ;  that  of  her  sister  more 
of  lithe  yieldingness  and  flexibility.  Both 
had  long,  slender,  gracefully-formed  hands; 
but  those  of  Margaret  were  the  whiter  and 
more  satiny  of  the  two.  Both  had  in  equal  per- 
fection the  beauty  of  ankle,  instep,  and  foot, 
which  insures  a  clean,  race-horse  like  action 
and  graceful  gait.  Yet  the  carriage  of  the 
two  sisters  was  as  remarkably  different  as  i 
anything  about  them.     Kate's  every  step  ex- 1 


pressed  decision,  energy,  vigor,  elasticity, — 
frankness,  if  one  may  predicate  such  a  qual- 
ity of  a  step.     Margaret's  gait,  on  the  con-  i 
trary,  seemed  perfectly  adapted   to  express  I 
timidity,  languor,  and  graceful  softness  in  its 
every  movement.     On  the  whole,  the  differ- 
ences between  the  two  sisters  would  l)c  what 
would  first  strike  a  stranger  on  seeing  them          j 
for  the  first  time.     The  points  of  similarity           ! 
between  them  would  be  noted  afterward,  or 
might  never  be  discovered  at  all  unless  by  the 
intelligent  eye  of  some  particularly  inter- 
ested or  habitually  accurate  observer. 

And  then  the  somewhat  up-hill  process  of 
making  acquaintance  with  the  stranger  had 
to  be  gone  through.  And  Margaret  did  not 
appear  to  be  one  of  those  who  are  gifted  with 
the   special  tact  and   facilities  which   make  j 

such  processes  rapid  and  easy.  The  cake  and 
wine  were  administered.  Miss  Immy  standing 
over  the  patient  the  while,  with  one  hand  on 
her  hip,  filled  to  overflowing  with  the  kind-  i 

liest  thoughts  and  intentions,  but  having  very  I 

much  the  air  of  a  severe  hospital  nurse  en- 
forcing some  very  disagreeable  discipline. 
But  Miss  JMargaret  nibbled  a  morsel  of  cake, 
and  having  put  into  a  tumbler  of  water  just 
enough  wine  to  slightly  color  it,  she  sipped 
a  little  of  the  uninviting  mixture. 

"  Bless  me,  my  dear  !  "  cried  the  old  lady, 
whose  speech  was,  like  that  of  most  of  her  con- 
temporaries in  a  similar  rank  of  life  at  that 
period,  tinctured  with  a  very  unmistakable 
flavor  of  provincialism,  "  Du  let  me  pit  a  lit- 
tle drop  more  wine  into  your  glass  ;  zems  to 
me,  it  aint  fit  drink  for  cither  man  or  beast 
in  that  fashion." 

'■'■  Mcrci,  madamc!  Thank  you!  I  always 
water  my  wine  so  much.  I  am  used  to  it." 
said  Margaret. 

"  Well,  if  you  are  used  to  it,  my  dear  ;  but 
to  my  mind  it  seems  like  spoiling  teio  good 
things.  Better  drink  clean  water  than  wa- 
ter bewitched  that  fashion  !  The  Lindisfarn 
water  is  celebrated." 

'•  It  is  very  good,  thank  you,  madame." 

"  Are  they  well  off  for  water  in  Paris?  " 
asked  the  squire,  catching  at  the  subject  in 
his  difficulty  of  finding  anything  to  say  to  his 
new  daughter. 

"Oh,  we  had  always  exquisite  water,  sir  ;  " 
replied  Margaret  with  more  of  warmth  in  her 
tone  than  she  Iiad  yet  put  into  it.  "  Madame 
de  R-rwenneviPle  "  (this  strange  orthography 
is  intended,  however  inadequately,  to  repre-  I 


26 

sent  the  most  perfectly  csecuted  Parisian 
(jrasscyement)  —  "Madame  de  R-rwenneville 
•was  always  very  particular  about  the  filtering 
of  the  water." 

"  Filtering  !  "  cried  Mr.  Mat  in  a  tone  of 
the  profoundest  contempt.  "  You  can't  make 
bad  water  into  good  by  filtering,  filter  as  much 
as  you  will.  We'll  do  better  than  that  for 
you  here,  Miss  Margy  !  " 

"  I'm  very  particular  about  my  filtering  too, 
my  dear ;  "  said  Mr.  Lindisfarn  ;  "the  Sill 
shire  gravel  does  it  for  me.  There's  my  fil 
tering  machine  up  above  the  house  there,  all 
covered  over  with  forest  trees  for  ornament 
And  the  squire  laughed  at  his  conceit,  a  huge 
but  not  unmusical  laugh,  which  set  every 
panel  in  the  wainscoting  on  the  wall  vibrat- 
ing. 

Margaret  opened  her  fine  eyes  to  their  ut- 
most extent,  and  gazed  on  her  father  with  as- 
tonishment, very  near  akin  to  dismay. 

"  We  had  very  fine  forest  trees  at  Paris," 
she  said,  after  a  little  pause,  "  in  the  garden 
of  the  Tuileries  and  the  Champs  Elysees." 

"  Ah  !  I  am  longing  for  you  to  tell  me  all 
about  Paris,"  said  Kate  ;  "  I  should  so  like 
to  see  it.  And  all  about  aunt,  and  poor  M. 
do  Renneville.  It  is  very  sad.  We  shall 
never  get  to  the  end  of  all  we  have  to  say  to 
each  other !  " 

"  Well !  I  shall  go  and  beat  the  turnips  in 
the  copse-side  twelve  acres,"  said  the  squire, 
rising.  "  Come  along.  Mat.  Call  the  dogs. 
Good-by  till  dinner-time,  my  dear ;  Miss 
Immy  and  Kate  are  longing  to  show  you  all 
the  old  place.  You  Avill  soon  feel  yourself  at 
home  among  us.  But  I  dare  say  it  will  seem 
dull  at  first  after  Paris." 

And  60  saying,  the  squire  and  Mr.  Mat  left 
the  room. 

"  Now,  Miss  Immy,"  said  Kate,  "  I  shall 
take  possession  of  Margaret  till  dinner-time. 
I'm  sure  you  must  have  a  thousand  things 
to  do  ;  and  I  mean  to  have  her  all  to  myself." 

"  Good-by,  dears  ;  I'm  all  behind-hand  to- 
day. Phoebe  brought  in  the  morning's  eggs 
hours  ago  ;  and  I  have  not  had  time  to  mark 
'em  yet.  Kate  will  show  you  your  room, 
!Margy  dear.  I  hope  you  will  find  all  to  your 
liking.  But  it's  to  be  thought  that  our  Sill- 
shire  ways  may  be  dificrent  to  your  French 
fashion  ;  but  if  there  is  anything  we  can  get, 
you've  only  to  speak.  I  did  go  into  Silverton 
myself  yesterday,  to  see  if  I  could  find  any 
French-fashioned  things.     But  I  could  only 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


find  a  bit  of  Paris  soap  at  Piper's,  the  perfum- 
er's. I  got  that.  You  will  find  it  in  your 
room,  dear." 

And  so  Miss  Imjny  bustled  off  on  her  avo- 
cations, leaving  the  two  sisters  together. 

"  Don't  let  us  stay  here,"  said  Kate ; 
"  come  up-stairs  and  see  your  room  and  mine. 
They  are  close  together,  with  a  door  between 
them.  Is  not  that  charning?  That  is  the 
door  of  the  library,"  she  continued,  as  they 
crossed  the  hall ;  "  we  must  not  go  in  now." 

"  Is  it  kept  locked?  "  said  Margaret. 

"Good  gracious,  no!  Locked!  What 
should  it  be  locked  for?  "  rejoined  Kate  with 
much  surprise. 

"  I  thought  it  might  be,  as  you  said  we 
must  not  go  in.  Besides,  if  it  is  left  open,  Ave 
might  get  at  the  books,  you  know  ;  all  sorts 
of  books.  Not  that  I  should  ever  dream  of 
doing  anything  so  wrong,  of  course." 

"  Get  at  the  books  !  Why,  Margy  dear, 
what  are  books  made  for,  but  to  be  got  at? 
I  get  at  them,  I  can  tell  you  !  " 

"  Oh,  Kate  !  I  have  never  been  used  to  do 
anything  without  the  knowledge  of  my  dear 
aunt.  What  would  papa  think  of  you,  if  he 
found  you  out?  " 

"  Good  heavens,  IMargaret,  what  are  you 
dreaming  of?  "  cried  Kate,  in  extreme  aston- 
ishment,  and  coloring  up  at  some  of  the  unpleas- 
ant ideas  her  sister  had  called  up  in  her  mind. 
"  Found  me  out !  found  me  out  in  using  the 
books  in  the  library  !  I  don't  understand  you. 
I  used  to  be  afraid  sometimes,  some  ten  years 
ago,  of  being  found  out  in  not  using  them  !  " 

"  But  you  said  we  must  not  go  in,"  re- 
joined Margaret. 

"  Because  if  we  once  went  in,  it  would 
take  up  all  the  time  till  dinner  ;  because  I 
want  to  take  you  up-stairs  first.  There  are 
so  many  things  to  show  you.  The  library 
must  wait  till  to-morrow  morning." 

"  We  will  ask  papa,  at  dinner-time,  if  I 
may  go  there." 

"  Ask  papa!  Why,  Noll  will  think  you 
crazy." 

"  And  pray  who  is  Noll?  "  asked  her  sis- 
ter. 

"  Noll  !  why,  papa"  to  be  sure !  Don't  you 
know  the  name  of  your  own  father,  Oliver 
Lindisfarn,  Esquire,  of  Lindisfarn  Chase? 
But  that  is  too  long  for  every-day  use  ;  so  I 
call  him  Noll  for  short." 

'  Oh,  my  sister  !  Respect  for  our  parents 
I  have  always  been  taught  to  consider  one  of 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


27 

for  Paris,  but  wc  arc  in  Sillfihirc  here,  and 
have  other  ways.  You'll  soon  get  used  to 
us.     See,  (Icai-,  this  is  your  room  !  " 

It  was  a  charming  room,  with  one  large 
bow-window  looking  out  on  the  trim  and 
covering  between  her  sister  and  herself,  and  j  pretty,  thorigh  rather  old-fashioned,  garden, 
the  long  path  which  would  have  to  be  tray-  on  the  cast  side  of  the  house, 
cllcd  over  by  one  or  other  of  them  before  "Oh,  what  an  immense  room!"  cried 
she  and  her  sister  could  meet  in  that  sisterly  Margai'et.  "  This  my  chamber  !  Why  one 
lion  of  mind  and  heart  which  she  had  been    might  give  a  ball  in  it.     It  must   be  very 


our  most  sacred  duties.     What  would  papa 
say,  if  he  loiew  that  you  Cidlcd  him  Noll?  " 

Kate  stared  at  her  sister  in  absolutely 
speechless  astoniishmcnt  and  dismay ; — dismay 
at  the  wide  gulf  which  she  seemed  to  be  dis- 


looking  forward  to  with  such  pleasurable  an- 
ticipation ; — and  speechlessness  from  the  dif- 
ficulty she  felt  in  choosing  at  which  point,  of 
all  those  suggested  by  Margaret's  last  speech, 
she  should  begin  her  explanations. 

"  •(/  r'^p^  were  to  hear  me  !  "  she  said  at 
length  ;  "  why  he  never  hears  anything  else. 
It's  as  natural  to  him  to  hear  me  say  Noll, 
as  to  hear  the  rooks  in  the  rookery  say  '  caw  !' 
I  never  do  anything, — we  none  of  us  here 
do  anything,  that  the  others  don't  know 
of."  (Here  Margaret  shot  a  glance  half 
shrewdly  observant  and  half  knowingly  con- 
fidential at  her  sister ;  but  withdrew  her 
eyes  in  the  next  instant.)  "But  perhaps 
things  may  be  different  in  France,"  contin- 
ued Kate,  endeavoring  to  make  the  unknown 
quantity  of  this  difference  accountable  for  all 
tliat  she  found  peipicxing  and  strange  to  her 
in  the  manifestations  of  her  sister's  modes  of 
thinking;  "but  you  will  soon  get  used  to 
our  ways,  dearest;  and  to  begin  with,  you 
must  take  to  calling  papa  Noll  at  once.  He 
is  such  a  dear,  darling  old  Noll !  " 

"  I !  I  could  never,  never  dare  to  do  such 
a  thing.  Beside,  do  you  know,  Kate,"  con- 
tinued Margaret,  with  no  little  solemnity  in 
her  manner,  "  I  think,  indeed  I  am  almost 
sure,  that  Madame  de  R-rwenneville  would 
say  that  it  was  vul(/ar  to  do  so." 

"  Oh  !  then  of  course  we  must  give  it  up," 
said  Kate.  She  could  not  resist  at  the  mo- 
ment the  temptation  of  so  far  resenting  the 
impertinence  involved  in  her  sister's  remark  ; 
but  she  repented  of  the  implied  sneer  in  the 
next  moment.  But  she  need  hardly  have 
taken  herself  to  task,  for  Margaret  replied 
with  all  gravity, — 

,  "  I  think  indeed  that  it  would  be  better  to 
do  so,  my  sister!  " 

"  Nonsense  !  you're  joking,  Margy  dear.  I 
would  not  call  darling  old  Noll  by  any  other 


cold. 

"  If  you  find  it  so,  you  shall  have  a  fire; 
but  I  hardly  think  you  will,  our  Sillshire 
climate  is  so  mild, — much  milder  than  Lon- 
don. See,  this  is  my  room  ;  just  such  another 
as  yours,  with  the  same  look  out  on  the  gar- 
den. I  hardly  ever  have  a  fire.  Used  you 
to  have  one  in  your  bedroom  in  Paris?  " 

"  No  ;  but  tiien  my  chamber  was  a  small 
one,  not  a  third  the  size  of  this  ;  and  very 
well  closed, — very  pretty, — a  love  of  a  little 
chamber." 

"  I  like  a  large  room,"  said  Kate,  a  little 
disappointed  at  the  small  measure  of  appro- 
bation the  accommodation — which  she  had 
flattered  herself  was  perfect,  and  which  was 
in  fact  all  that  any  lady  could  possibly  de- 
sire— elicited  from  her  Parisian-bred  sister. 

"  See,  here  are  all  my  books,  and  my  Avrit- 
ing-table.  I  keep  my  drawing-tablj  and  all 
my  drawing  things  on  this  side  becam-eof  the 
light  ;  and  that  leaves  plenty  of  room  for  the 
toilet-table  in  front  here.  I  should  never 
have  room  for  all  these  things  in  a  small 
room." 

"  It  seems  very  nice,  certainly.  Are  you 
allowed  to  have  a  light  at  night  ?  " 

"Why — how  do  you  mean,  dear?  We 
don't  go  to  bed  in  the  dark  !  " 

"  But  I  mean,  are  you  allowed  to  keep 
your  candle  as  long  as  you  like?  " 

"  Of  course  1  keep  it  till  I  go  to  bed! 
Don't  you  do  so  too?  " 

"  But  if  you  are  as  long  as  you  like  abou  t  go- 
ing to  bed,  you  may  do  anything  you  please^ — 
read  any  books  you  like,  after  they  arc  all  in 
bed  and  asleep.  But  I  suppose,'"  added  she 
thoughtfully,  "  that  the  old  woman  down- 
stairs sees  how  much  candle  you  have  burned." 

"  What  strange  notions  you  have,  Marga- 
ret," said  Kate,  almost  sadly,  as  she  began 
to  perceive  that  the  distance  that  separated 


name,  and  he  would  not  have  me  call  him  •  her  from  her  sister  was  greater  than  she  had 
by  any  other  name,  for  all  the  world.  What  at  first  seen  it  to  be.  "  I  om  as  long  as  ever 
Madame  de  Renneville  says  may  be  very  right  1 1  like  about  going  to  bed— which  generally 


28 

is  as  short  as  I  can  make  it ; — and  I  do  read 
any  books  I  like  after  they  are  all  in  bed  and 
asleep  ; — or  rather  I  wish  I  did,  and  should 
do  so,  were  it  not  that  I  am  always  a  great 
deal  too  sleepy  myself.  Are  you  good  at 
•keeping  awake?  I  wish  I  was!  And  as  to 
the  old  woman  down-stairs,  as  you  call  her, 
that  is  Miss  Immy  ;  and  I  don't  think  she 
looks  much  after  the  candle-ends  ; — tliough  it 
must  be,  by  the  way,  about  the  only  thing 
that  she  don't  look  after,  for  she  looks  after 
evei-ything.  Dear  Miss  Immy  !  I  don't  know 
what  Noll  and  I  should  do  without  Miss  Immy. 
And  you  must  learn  to  love  her  as  much  as 
we  do." 

"  Who  is  she?  Your gouvcrnante,  I  sup- 
pose.    What  a  queer  name,  Miss  Immy  !  " 

"  Miss  Immy,  Margy  dear,  is  Miss  Imogene 
Lindisfarn,  the  sister  of  our  grandfather, 
Oliver  Lindisfarn,  and  therefore  our  father's 
aunt.  She  has  lived  at  the  Chase  all  her  life, 
and  nothing  would  go  on  without  her." 

' '  AV  hat  a  strange  old  woman  she  seems  ! 
I  don't  think  she  likes  me  by  the  way  she 
spoke  to  me.  And  who  is  that  extraordinary 
looking  man,  who  looked  at  me  as  if  I  had 
been  some  strange  thing  out  of  the  Jardin  des 
Plantes?^' 

"The  extraordinary  looking  man,"  said 
Kate,  laughing  heartily,  "  is  Matthew  Lin- 
disfarn, Esquire,  commonly  called  Mr.  Mat ; 
a  cousin  of  Noll's,  also  inseparable  from  and 
very  necessary  to  the  Chase.  We  could  not 
get  on  without  Mr.  Mat.  You  will  see  him 
looking  rather  less  extraordinary  at  dinner 
presently.  And  you  will  very  soon  get  to 
like  him  too,  as  well  as  Miss  Immy." 

"  Is  he  a  gentleman?  "  asked  the  stranger. 

"Margaret!"  cried  Kate,  and  her  eyes 
flashed  and  her  color  mounted  to  her  cheeks 
as  she  spoke,  "  did  I  not  tell  you  that  his 
name  is  Lindisfarn?  Ask  Lady  Farnleigh, 
or  the  dean,  or  old  Brian  Wyvill,  or  Dick 
Cox,  the  ploughboy,  whether  he  is  a  gentle- 
man. But  as  I  said  before,"  she  continued, 
putting  her  arm  round  her  sister's  waist  and 
kissing  her  cheek,  "you  must  get  to  know 
us  all  and  our  ways,  and  then  you  will  un- 
derstand it  all  better,  and  come  to  be  one  of 
us.  Of  course  it  must  all  be  very  different 
from  life  at  Paris,  and  all  very  strange  to 
you." 

"  Oh,  so  different !  "  said  Margaret. 

"  And  then  there  will  be  so  many  other 
people  for  you  to  know  and  to  like  ;— Uncle 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


Theophilus  and  Lady  Sempronia  ; — and  first 
and  foremost  my  own  dai-ling  Lady  Farnleigh. 
And  then  I  must  introduce  you  to  all  our 
beaux !  We  have  some  very  presentable  ones, 
I  assure  you.  And  we  shall  have  such  lots 
to  do.  And  now  we  must  be  thinking  of 
dressing  for  dinner.  You  have  to  unpack  your 
things." 

"  Are  there  people  coming  to  dine  here  to- 
day ?  "  asked  Margaret. 

"  No,  nobody.  There  will  not  be  a  soul 
but  ourselves,"  replied  Kate. 

"  But  must  we  dress  then?"  asked  her 
sister  ;  "  why  should  we  do  so?  " 

"Oh,  we  always  dress  for  dinner  ; — that  is, 
put  on  an  evening  dress,  you  know.  Noll 
likes  it.  I  think  I  had  better  ring  for  Sim- 
mons. She  is  our  maid  between  us  two,  you 
know.  If  you  don't  like  setting  to  work  to 
unpack,  now, — and  we  should  hardly  have 
time  before  dinner, — I  can  lend  you  any- 
thing." 

And  so  a  partial  unpacking  was  done  ;  and 
amid  perpetual  running  to  and  fro  betAveen 
the  two  bedrooms  by  the  door  of  commu- 
nication ;  —  repeated  declarations  that  they 
should  not  be  dressed  in  time  for  dinner,  and 
warnings  from  Simmons  to  the  same  effect, 
followed  by  fresh  interruptions  for  admii-a- 
tion,  criticism,  and  comparison,  the  dressing 
was  at  last  done,  and  the  two  girls  hurried 
down  the  great  staircase,  just  as  the  last  bell 
was  ringing,  leaving  both  their  rooms  strewed 
with  a  chaos  of  feminine  properties,  which 
Simmons  declared  it  would  be  a  week's  work 
to  reduce  to  order. 

Of  course  during  the  entirety  of  the  couple 
of  hours  thus  del;  :;htfully  spent  by  the  two 
sisters,  the  tonguco  of  both  of  them  were  run- 
ning a  well-contested  race  ;  but  it  is  hardly 
to  be  expected  that  a  masculine  pen  should 
undertake  to  report  even  any  disjecta  membra 
of  such  a  conversation.  Simmons,  however, 
though  her  tongue  was  not  altogether  idle, 
employed  her  eyes  and  ears  the  while  with 
more  activity.  And  a  brief  statement  of  her 
report,  as  made  that  evening  to  the  assembled 
areopagus  in  the  servants'  hall,  may  perhaps 
afford  the  judicious  reader  as  much  insight 
into  the  character  of  the  newly  arrived  Miss 
Lindisfarn  as  could  be  drawn  from  a  more 
detailed  account  of  the  enormous  mass  of 
chatter  that  had  passed  between  the  two 
girls. 

!Miss  Simmons  then  announced  it  as  her 


LINDISFARN    CHASE, 


opinion  tliat  Miss  ^largnrct  Avas  "  a  deep 
one."  "  'Twerc  plain  enough  to  see,"  she 
added,  "  that  her  maxim  was,  '  AV^hat's  yours 
is  mine;  and  what's  mine's  my  own.'  " 

"  Anyways  she's  a  dewtifiil  daater !  "  said 
old  Brian  AVyvill ;  "  I  never  zeed  in  all  my 
life  —  and  that's  not  zaying  a  little — any- 
thing so  bewtiful  as  when  she  were  a  zuppli- 
cating  the  squoire  like  on  the  stone  steps. 
'Tvvere  as  good  as  any  play  ;  and  I've  zced  a 
many  of  'em  in  my  time." 

"  For  my  part,"  said  rosy  Betty  house- 
maid, "  I  don't  like  the  color  of  her  !  " 

"  I  tell  you  all,"  rejoined  Simmons,  speak- 
ing withtheauthority  of  a  somewhat  superior 
position,  "  slie  is  no  more  tu  be  compared  tu 
our  Miss  Kate  than  Lindisfarn  church  is  tu 
the  cathedral  of  Silverton." 

"  'Twould  be  very  um-easonable,  and  very 
unfair  on  her  to  expect  she  should  be," 
said  Mr.  Banting  ;  "  Miss  Kate's  Lindisfarn 
bred!" 

"  Ay,"  said  the  cook,  "  and  Lindisfarn  fed  ! 
What  can  you  expect  from  poor  creatures 
that  live  on  bread-and-water  supc,  and  vrogs, 
with  a  bit  of  cabbage  on  Zundays  ?  " 

The  self-evident  truth  of  this  proposition 
was  recognized  by  a  chorus  of  "  Ay,  in- 
deed !  " 

"  She's  a  sweet  pretty  lass,  anyway,"  said 
Thomas  Tibbs,  ths  coachman  ; "''  and  .she  were 
Lindisfarn  born,  if  she  weren't  Lindisfarn 
bred.     And  there's  a  deal  in  blood." 

"Ay!  there  be,"  said  Dick  Wyvill,  the 
groom,  a  son  of  old  Brian.  "  But  pretty 
much  depends  on  the  way  they  are  broke." 

Meanwhile  the  dinner  in  the  parlor  had 
passed  a  little  heavily.  Notwithstanding  the 
near  relationship  of  the  new-comer,  all  the 
party  were  conscious  of  a  certain  slight  de- 
gree of  restraint.  ^Miss  Immy  was  nervously 
afraid  that  her  domestic  arrangements  might 
fail  in  some  way  or  other  to  satisfy  the  re- 
quirements and  tastes  of  her  Parisian  niece. 
She  had  held  a  long  consultation  with  the 
cook  respecting  the  production  of  some  sam- 
ple of  presumed  French  cookery  ;  and  no 
pains  had  been  spared  in  the  preparation  of 
a  squat-looking  lump  of  imperfectly  baked 
dough,  which  appeared  on  the  table  under 
the  appellation  of  a  vol-au-vcnt.  And  Miss 
Lamy  was  rather  disappointed,  though  at 
the  same  time  re-assured  and  comforted  as  to 
the  future,  when  Miss  Margaret,  utterly  de- 
clieing  to  try  the  vol-au-vcnt,  made  an  excel- 


29 

lent  dinner  on  a  slice  of  roast-beef,  only  re- 
questing her  papa  to  cut  it  from  the  most 
underdone  part,  and  rather  shocking  all  pres- 
ent by  observing  that  she  "  loved  it  bleed- 
ing." 

Hannah,  the  cook,  gave  the  untouched  vol- 
au-vent  entire  to  Dick,  the  ploughboy,  and 
drew  the  most  favorable  auguries  as  to  Mar- 
garet's rapid  physical,  moral,  and  intellectual 
improvement,  when  she  heard  of  the  manner 
in  which  that  young  lady  had  preferred  to 
dine. 

Nevertheless,  the  dinner,  as  has  been  said, 
passed  rather  heavily.  The  squire  himself 
was  not  without  anxiety  as  to  the  possibility 
of  making  his  Parisian-bred  daughter  com- 
fortable, happy,  and  contented  with  all  at 
Lindisfarn.  And  Mr.  Mat  was  tormented  by 
suspicions  that  the  new  membet  of  the  fam- 
ily might  turn  out  to  be  "fine,"  and  that 
Paris  airs  might  be  even  worse  than  London 
ones.  And  Margaret  herself  was  laboring 
under  the  influence  of  that  undefinable  sense 
of  uneasiness  which  the  Italians  well  call 
"  subjection."  She  had  that  unpleasant  feel- 
ing toward  Mr.  Mat  which  arises  from  the 
consciousness  of  having  greatly  erred  in  one's 
estimate  of  the  social  position  of  anybody, 
and  perhaps,  for  aught  one  can  tell,  mani- 
fested one's  mistake.  It  would  have  given 
me  a  very  favorable  opinion  of  the  young 
lady's  gentle  breeding,  if  she  liad  at  once  dis- 
covered that  Mr.  Mat,  as  seen  in  his  green 
coat  and  buff  gaiters,  was  to  all  intents  and 
purposes  a  gentleman.  But  it  would  be  liard 
to  blame  her  too  severely  for  having  mistaken 
him  for  a  gamekeeper.  As  to  her  father,  she 
seemed  to  feel  more  strongly  than  ever  the 
utter  impossibility  of  calling  him  "  Noll." 
It  appeared  to  her  that  she  had  never  seen  so 
striking  an  impersonation  of  aristocratic  and 
respect-compelling  dignity  ;  and  she  was  not 
ftir  wrong. 

The  evening,  too,  passed  slowly  ;  and  at  a 
very  early  hour  it  was  voted  ncm.  con.  that 
the  traveller  must  be  tired,  and  must  be 
wanting  to  go  to  bed.  But  there  was  one 
matter  which  had  already  given  Margaret 
much  pain  two  or  three  times  during  this  her 
first  afternoon  in  her  father's  house  ;  and 
when,  as  they  were  all  taking  their  candle- 
sticks to  go  to  bed,  an  opportunity  occurred 
of  adverting  to  the  subject,  she  was  deter- 
mined to  attempt  a  remedy  for  the  evil  while 
it  might  yet  be  not  incurable. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


30 

"  Good-night,  Margy,  my  darling,  and  God 
bless  thee!  "  said  her  father,  putting  one 
hand  fondly  on  her  head,  and  kissing  her  on 
the  forehead. 

"  Good-night,  Miss  Margy.  If  you  over- 
sleep yourself,  I'll  give  you  a  rouse  in  the 
morning  with  the  dogs  under  your  vpindow," 
said  Mr.  ]Mat. 

"  Good-night,  Margy  dear.  I  trust  your 
bed  and  all  will  be  as  you  like  it,  and  that 
you  will  sleep  well,"  said  Miss  Immy. 

And,  "  Come  along,  Margy  dear !  We 
sha'n't  get  to  bed  before  we  have  had  some 
more  talk,  I'll  be  bound,"  said  Kate. 

The  utterers  of  all  these  kindly  "  good- 
nights  "  had  little  notion  that  they  were  in- 
flicting so  many  stabs  in  the  heart  of  the 
object  of  them.  But  so  it  was  ;  and  the  re- 
iterated blows  were  more  than  she  eould 
bear.  Was  her  migration  au  fond  du  'pro- 
vince to  involve  a  transformation  of  herself 
into  a  dairymaid,  that  she  should  be  called 
"Margy"?  It  was  too  odious.  It  would 
be  "Meg"  next!  She  could  not  bear  it. 
And  then  before  strangers  too  :  they  would 
no  doubt  do  the  same  !  Before  des  jeunes 
gens !  She  should  sink  into  the  earth.  So, 
while  the  tears  gathered  in  her  fine  eyes, — 
"  tears  from  the  depth  of  some  divine  de- 
spair,"— she  looked  round  on  the  blank  faces 
of  the  little  circle  gathered  about  her,  and 
clasping  her  hands  in  an  attitude  of  unex- 
ceptionable elegance,  exclaimed  in  tones  of 
the  most  touching  entreaty, — 

"  Oh  !  call  me  Marrguerrwite ;  not  that 
horrid  name.  My  father  !  my  sister  !  dear 
friends!  call  me  Marrguerrwite  !  "  she  said, 
uttering  the  word  in  a  manner  wholly  unat- 
tainable by  insulaa-  organs. 

The  little  party  looked  at  each  other  in 
blank  dismay,  while  the  suppliant  continued 
to  hold  her  hands  clasped  in  a  sort  of  circular 
appeal. 

"  My  love,"  said  the  squire,  "  you  shall  be 
called  any  Avay  you  like  best.  Let  it  be  !Mar- 
garet ;  but  I'll  be  shot  if  I  can  say  it  as  you 
do,  not  if  'twas  to  save  my  life." 

"  To  my  thinking, '  Margy  '  is  quite  a  pretty 
name,"  said  Mr.  Mat,  more  confirmed  than 
ever  in  his  suspicions  of  latent  "  finery." 

"  But,  sissy  darling,"  said  Kate,  laughing 
and  putting  her  arm  caressingly  round  her 
sister's  waist,  "  I  am  as  bad  as  Noll.  I  could 
not  say  the  name  as  you  say  it,  not  if  I  were 
to  put  a  hot  chestnut  in  my  mouth  every  time  ! 


But  I'll  never  say  '  Margy  '  again.  Let  me 
say  Margaret!  " 

"  I  think  that  people  ought  to  be  called  as 
they  like  best,"  said  Miss  loimy.  "  I've  been 
called  Miss  Immy  nearly  fourscore  years ; 
and  I  should  not  like  to  be  called  anything 
else.  So  I  shall  always  call  her  '  Margy 
sweet,'  since  that  is  what  she  likes  best !  " 

And  Miss  Immy  toddled  off,  holding  her 
flat  candlestick  at  arm's  length  in  front  of 
her,  and  shaking  her  head  in  a  manner  that 
seemed  to  be  intended  to  express  the  most  ir- 
revocable determination. 

CHAPTER    VI. 
WALTER    ELLINGnAM. 

Lady  Farnleigh  had  asked  Kate,  as  the 
reader  may  possibly  remember,  to  be  sure  to 
ride  over  to  Wanstrow  not  later  than  the  next 
day  but  one  alter  the  arrival  of  her  sister. 
But  on  the  morrow  of  the  evening  spoken  of 
in  the  last  chapter,  Kate  heard  her  godmoth- 
er's cheery  ringing  voice  in  the  hall,  asking 
for  her  befoi-e  she  had  left  her  bedroom. 

She  was  just  about  doing  so,  and  hurrying 
down-stairs  to  be  in  time  to  tell  the  servants 
not  to  ring  the  I)reakfast-bell ;  for  her  sister 
was  still  sleeping  and  she  would  not  have  her 
wakened,  when  she  found  Lady  Farnleigh  in 
the  hall  in  her  riding-habit. 

"  What,  Kate  turned  sluggard!  you  too? 
We  shall  have  the  larks  lying  abed  till  the 
sun  has  aired  the  world  for  them  next.  I 
doubted  whether  1  should  be  in  time  for  break- 
fast ;  has  the  bell  rung  ?  " 

"  No.  And  I  want  to  prevent  them  from 
ringing  it  this  morning.  Margaret  is  still 
fast  asleep,  and  I  wont  let  her  be  waked. 
She  had  a  very  fatiguing  journey  of  it,  you 
know." 

"  But  it's  past  nine  o'clock,  child.  Our 
new  sister  must  have  a  finely  cultivated  tal- 
ent for  sleeping.  You  were  not  late,  I  sup- 
pose? " 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  we  were  rather 
late, — that  is,  she  and  I  were.  Wc  had  so 
much  to  talk  of  to  each  other,  you  know. 
How  good  of  you  to  ride  over  this  morning, 
you  good  fairy  of  a  godmamma  !  " 

"  And  like  the  fairies  I  get  the  bloom  of 
the  day  for  my  pains.  Such  a  ride !  It  is 
the  loveliest  morning." 

"  I  must  send  to  tell  Noll  and  tlie  others 
that  there  is  to  be  no  bell  this  morning,  or 
else  they'll  be  waiting  for  it.     And  then  we'll 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


31 


go  to  breakfast.  You  must  be  ready  for 
yours.'- 

"  Slia'n't  be  sorry  to  get  it.  I  bad  no 
thought  of  riding  over  to-day,  you  know  ;  but 
last  night  I  made  up  my  miud  to  do  so,  for  a 
whole  eliapter  of  reasons." 

"  Of  wiiich  any  one  would  have  been  suffi' 
cient,  I  should  hope." 

"  Nevertheless,  you  shall  have  them  all. 
In  the  first  place,  1  could  not  restrain  my  im- 
patient curiosity  to  see  what  our  new  sister  is 
like.  In  the  next  place,  I  thought  that  per- 
haps she  might  ride  over  with  you  to-morrow. 
And  in  that  case,  it  would  be  more  scion  Ics 
convinanccs — and  wc  must  be  upon  our  P's 
and  Q's  with  our  visitor  from  Paris,  you 
know — that  I  should  call  first  upon  her.  It 
is  not  the  usual  hour  for  a  morning  call,  it  is 
true  ;  but  no  doubt  she  will  consider  that  the 
mode  du  fays.'''' 

"  She  will  consider  that  you  are  the  kindest 
and  best  of  fairy  godmothers  !  " 

"  But  I  am  no  godmother  of  hers,  you 
know,  fairy  or  mortal.  But  you  have  not 
heard  all  my  reasons  for  coming  yet ;  I  am 
come  to  ask  permission  to  introduce  to  you 
an  old  and  valued  friend." 

"You  are  joking!  As  if  there  was  any 
need  of  your  asking  permission  to  bring  any- 
body here!  " 

"  Nevertheless,  I  choose  upon  this  occasion 
to  ask  permission;  —  your  father's,  at  all 
events,  Miss  Kate,  even  if  I  am  to  take  yours 
as  a  matter  of  course." 

"  As  if  Noll  would  not  be  just  as  much  sur- 
prised at  your  asking  as  I  can  be  !  " 

"Nevertheless,  I  say  again,  I  choose  in 
this  case  to  let  you  all  know  who  and  what 
the  person  is  that  I  propose  to  bring  to  you, 
before  I  do  so." 

"  Is  he  something  so  very  terrible  then?  " 

"  I  had  not  said  that  it  was  a  '  he  '  at  all, 
Miss  Kate.  However,  you  are  right.  It  is 
a  '  he  '.  And  as  for  the  tcrribleness  of  him, 
that  you  must  judge  for  yourself.  I  have 
told  you  that  it  is  one  in  whom  I  am  greatly 
interested." 

"  x\nd  surely  that  makes  all  other  infor- 
mation on  the  subject  unnecessary." 

"Thanks,  Kate,  for  thinking  so.  But  I 
don't  think  so.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Lord 
EUingham?" 

"  I  have  seen  the  name  in  the  debates  in 
the  House  of  Lords  ;  but  that  is  all." 

"  Lord  Ellingham  has  been  a  widower  many 


years  ;  and  it  is  a  h)ng  time  since  I  have  seen 
him.  But  his  wife  was  the  dearest  friend  I 
ever  had — not  dearer,  perhaps,  than  your 
mother,  Kate  ;  but  at  all  events  an  older 
friend.  She  was  the  friend  of  my  girlhood, 
and  I  lost  her  bcfoi*e  I  came  to  live  in  this 
part  of  the  country.  She  left  her  husband 
with  four  young  sons.  The  gentleman  I  pur- 
pose asking  your  father's  permission  to  bring 
here  is  the  third  of  these.  Lord  Ellingham, 
I  should  tell  you,  is  very  for  from  being  a 
wealthy  man, — and  his  third  son  is  a  very 
poor  one,  pretty  nearly  as  dependent  on  his 
own  exertions  for  his  daily  bread  as  any  one 
of  your  father's  laborers.  You  see,  therefore, 
that  my  friend,  Walter  Ellingham,  is  by  no 
means  what  match-making  mammas  call  an 
'  eligible  '  young  man.  He  has  not  been 
found  eligible  for  much  either,  poor  fellow, 
by  his  masters,  my  Lords  of  the  Admiralty. 
Ilis  father  is  a  leading  member  of  the  Oppo- 
sition,— though  of  course  that  can  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  it.  The  foct  is,  however,  that, 
at  thirty  years  of  age,  Walter  Ellingham — 
'  honorable  '  though  he  be— is  but  a  lieuten- 
ant in  His  Majesty's  navy  ;  and  thinks  him- 
self fortunate  in  having  obtained  the  com- 
mand of  a  revenue  cutter,  stationed  on  our 
coast  here.  I  found  a  letter  when  I  got  home 
yesterday  evening,  telling  me  all  about  it. 
He  hopes  to  be  able  to  come  up  to  Wanstrow 
the  day  after  to-morrow ;  and  as  I  dare  say 
we  shall  frequently  see  him  during  the  time 
he  is  stationed  here,  I  purpose  bringing  him 
over  to  you.  And  that  is  the  third  reason 
for  my  morning  ride." 

"  But  you  haven't  said  a  word,  you  myste- 
rious foiry  godmother,  to  explain  why  you 
thought  it  necessary  to  ask  a  special  per- 
mission to  make  us  this  present.  Of  course 
you  will  send  him  up  to  Lindisfarn  in  a 
pumpkin  drawn  by  eight  white  mice,  with  a 
grasshopper  for  coachman.  And  I  do  hope 
he'll  have  a  very  tall  feather  in  his  cap !  " 

"  Suffice  it  that  in  the  plenitude  of  my 
fairy  wisdom  I  did  choose  to  ask  permission 
before  starting  the  pumpkin.  As  for  the 
feather  in  his  cap,  I  have  little  doubt  that 
it  will  come  in  due  time.  It  is  some  years 
since  I  have  seen  Walter,  but  from  my  re- 
membrance of  him,  I  should  be  inclined  to 
prefer  some  other  trade  to  that  of  a  smuggler 
on  the  Sillshire  coast  just  at  present.  But 
what  about  this  breakfast,  Kate?  " 

"  I  must  go  and  lojak  after  Miss  Immy. 


32 

The  event  of  yesterday  has  put  us  all  out  of 
our  usual  clockwork  order,  I  think.  I  dare 
say  Miss  Immy  is  deep  in  speculation  as  to 
the  modes  and  times  at  which  French  people 
get  up  and  get  their  breakfasts.'" 

"  I  shall  go  and  speak  to  the  squire  by  my- 
self; I  suppose  I  shall  find  him  in  the  study?" 

"  Yes,  do.  And  tell  him  he  may  come  to 
breakfast  without  waiting  for  the  bell  this 
morning." 

So  Lady  Farnleigh  made  her  way  to  the 
sanctum  which  country  gentlemen  will  per- 
sist in  calling  their  "  study,"  for  the  purpose 
of  having  five  minutes'  conversation  with  the 
squire,  on  the  subject  which  was  uppermost 
in  her  mind,  in  a  rather  graver  tone  than 
that  which  she  had  used  in  speaking  to  Kate  ; 
and  the  latter  went  to  discover  the  cause  of 
such  an  unprecedented  event  as  the  non-ap- 
pearance of  Miss  Immy  in  the  breakfast-room 
exactly  as  the  clock  over  the  stables  struck 
nine. 

It  was  very  nearly  a  quarter  past  that  hour, 
when  the  family  party,  Avith  the  exception  of 
the  new-comer,  met  in  the  breakfast-room. 

"  Why,  Miss  Immy  !  it's  near  quarter  past 
nine,  as  I  am  a  living  man!  "  cried  the  squire. 
"  We  shall  begin  to  think  that  you  are  get- 
ting old,  if  you  break  rules  in  this  wa}' !  " 

"  Not  so  old  by  a  quarter  of  an  hour  as  you 
make  me  out,  Mr.  Lindisfarn  !  "  said  Miss 
Immy,  rattling  the  teacups  about.  "  The 
clock  is  ever  so  much  too  fast." 

"  I  dare  say  the  sun  got  up  a  little  before 
his  time  vrhen  he  saw  it  was  such  a  lovely 
morning." 

"  You  know  I  am  always  in  the  room  by 
nine  o'clock,  Mr.  Lindisfarn,"  reiterated 
Miss  Immy,  who  would  have  gone  to  the 
stake  rather  than  admit  that  she  was  late. 

"  Always  !  It  shall  be  always  nine  o'clock 
■when  you  come  into  the  breakfast-room  ;  as 
it's  always  one  o'clock  in  Pai-son  !Mayford's 
parish  out  on  the  moor  when  the  parson  is 
hungry.  The  clerk  sets  the  church  clock 
every  day  by  his  Reverence's  appetite ;  and 
they  say  there's  no  parish  in  the  moor  keeps 
Buch  good  time." 

"  I  think  I  must  get  !Mr.  Mayfoi-d  to  come 
and  stay  with  me  while  at  Wanstrow,"  said 
Lady  Farnleigh,  "  for  our  AYanstrow  clocks 
are  always  at  sixes  and  sevens." 

"  Ah  !  but  the  Wanstrow  air  is  not  so  keen 
as  it  is  on  the  moor.  Parson's  appetite  would 
be  slower  in  getting  its  edge  ;  and  your  lady- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


ship  would  be  half  an  hour  behind  time  at 
least,"  said  Mr.  Mat. 

"  1  should  get  you  to  calculate  the  differ- 
ence, and  work  out  the  mean  time  accord- 
ingly, Mr.  Mat ;  will  you  be  my  astrono- 
mer? " 

"  You  mean  gastronomer,  godmamma  ! 
That  would  be  more  what  would  be  needed 
for  the  business  in  hand,"  said  Kate. 

"  I  wonder  when  Margy  will  be  down.  No, 
I  mustn't  say  that,"  cried  the  squire,  correct- 
ing himself.  "  Poor  lass,  I  wouldn't  vex  her 
for  the  world." 

"  Vex  her  !  What  should  vex  her?  "  in- 
quired Lady  Farnleigli. 

"  She  don't  like  being  called  Margy,"  ex- 
plained Kate;  "we  quite  annoyed  her,  all 
of  us,  by  calling  her  Margy.  She  has  been 
used  to  be  called  Marguerite.  And  I  am 
afraid  I  hurt  her  last  night  by  laughing  at 
her  French  pronunciation  of  it — which  was 
very  silly  of  me.  But  we  put  it  all  right 
afterward." 

"  And  you  were  half  the  night  in  doing  it, 
I'll  bet  a  wager,"  said  the  squire;  ''and 
that's  why  she  can't  get  up  this  morning." 

"  Yes,  we  were  rather  late.  Just  think 
how  much  we  have  to  talk  about !"  said  Kate. 

"  And  no  time  except  last  night  to  do  it 
in,"  laughed  the  squire. 

"  And  she  must  be  tired  after  her  journey, 
poor  lass,"  said  Mr.  Mat. 

"  I  dare  say  she  is  stirring  by  this  time," 
said  Kate  ;  "  I  will  go  and  look  for  her." 

"  I  am  going  into  Silverton  ;  has  anybody 
any  commands?"  said  Mr.  Mat. 

"  Of  course  you  will  call  in  the  Close,  and 
tell  them  she  is  come.  Say  that  we  shall  come 
in  to-morrow,"  answered  Kate. 

"  I'll  take  the  dogs  and  go  with  you  as  far 
as  the  brook,"  said  the  squire. 

So  the  gentlemen  took  themselves  off ;  Miss 
Immy  toddled  off  to  her  usual  domestic  avo- 
cations, and  Lady  Farnleigh  was  left  alone  in 
the  breakfast-room,  while  Kate  ran  up-stairs 
to  look  for  her  sister. 

In  a  very  few  minutes  she  returned,  bring- 
ing down  Miss  Margaret  with  her  into  the 
breakfast-room,  where  she  was  presented  in 
due  form  to  Lady  Farnleigh.  Margaret  exe- 
cuted a  courtesy,  with  proper  eyeiid  manege 
to  match,  to  which  Mr.  Turveydrop,  or  any 
other  equally  competent  master  of  "  deport- 
ment," would  have  awarded  a  crown  of  lau- 
rel on  the  snot. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"You  Jiavc  bad  plenty  of  ■Rarm-licarted 
welcoming  to  Lindisfarn  ;  but  you  must  let 
me  say  welcome  to  Sillshirc,  ^lavgueritc  ;  for 
'  we  Zillisliire  volk,'  as  Mr.  Mat  loves  to  say, 
look  upon  Sillshire  as  a  common  possession, 
of  which  wc  arc  all  uncommonly  proud." 

"  It  is  a  nice  country  ;  I  am  sure  of  it, 
madamc, — my  lady,"  said  Margaret,  correct- 
ing herself  and  blushing  painfully. 

"Oh,  you  must  not  '  my  lady  '  me  ;  Kate 
here,  calls  me  all  sorts  of  names, — very  bad 
ones,  sometimes !  "  said  Lady  Farnleigh,  with 
mock  gravity. 

Margaret  threw  her  fine  eyes,  eloquent 
with  surprised  and  sorrowful  reproachfulness, 
on  her  sister. 

"  But  then,"  continued  Lady  Farnleigh,  as 
she  shot,  on  her  side,  a  glance  of  shrewd  ob- 
servation on  ^largaret,  "  Kate  has  a  sad  habit 
of  calliiig  names." 

"  Madame  de  Renneville  strictly  forbade 
me  ever  to  do  such  a  thing,"  rejoined  Marga- 
ret;  "  she  always  said  that  there  was  noth- 
ing more  vulgar. ' ' 

"  "\Ye  must  send  Kate  to  the  school  where 
'  them  as  learns  manners  pays  twopence  ex- 
tra,'— and  pay  the  twopence  for  her,"  said 
Lady  Farnleigh,  with  a  queer  look  at  Kate, 
while  Margaret  opened  her  magnificent  large 
eyes  to  their  utmost  extent,  in  utterly  mysti- 
fied astonishment. 

"  But  however  we  call  one  another,"  con- 
tinued Lady  Farnleigh,  changing  her  tone, 
"we  must  learn,  my  dear  Miss  Lindisfarn, 
to  be  very  great  friends  ;  for  your  poor  dear 
mother  loved  me,  and  I  loved  her  very  dearly. 
Love  between  you  and  me  is  a  matter  of  in- 
heritance." 

' '  You  are  very  good ,  madame.  I  never  had 
the  happiness  to  know  my  sainted  mother," 
said  Margaret,  with  a  sigh,  the  profundity  of 
which  was  measured  with  the  most  skilful  ac- 
curacy to  the  exact  requirement  of  the  nicest 
propriety  on  the  occasion. 

' '  Here  comes  some  hot  cofiee  for  you ,  ^lar- 
garet  dear,"  said  Kate.  "  We  all  take  tea  ; 
but  Miss  Immy  thought  that  you  probably 
took  cofiee  ;  and  here  is  some  of  our  famous 
Sillshire  cream.  Now  what  will  you  have  to 
eat  ?  A  fresh  egg,  warranted  under  Jliss  Ln- 
my's  own  sign-manual  to  have  been  laid  this 
morning?  See,  there  is  the  dear  old  soul's 
mark  !  If  the  egg  were  to  be  taken  from  the 
nest  to  be  put  into  the  saucepan  the  next  in- 
stant, Miss  Immy  would  insist  on  marking 

3 


33 

it  with  the  day  of  the  month,  before  it  was 
boiled." 

"  Only  a  bit  of  bread,  if  you  please,"  re- 
plied the  Parisian-bred  girl.  "  And  I  should 
like  to  have  a  little  hot  milk  witL.my  coffee, 
if  I  might." 

' '  Instead  of  our  Sillsh  ire  cream  ?  You  shall 
have  what  you  like,  darling ;  but  we  must 
keep  it  a  clo§e  secret.  What  will  Sillshire 
say?" 

"  I  am  afraid  the  cream  is  too  rich.  I  al- 
ways take  cofiee  and  milk  and  a  bit  of  bread  ; 
— nothing  else." 

"  Ah  !  Sillshire  air  will  soon  avenge  your 
neglect  of  our  good  things,"  said  Lady  Farn- 
leigh.    "  Do  you  ride.  Marguerite?  " 

"  I  have  never  been  on  a  horse.  Madame 
de  Benneville  did  not  consider  mounting  on 
horseback  in  all  respects  desirable." 

Lady  Farnleigh  and  Kate  exchanged  glances 
involuntarily,  and  the  former  said,  "  I  dare 
say  Madame  de  Renneville  may  have  been 
right,  as  regards  Paris  ;  but  you  can  under- 
stand, my  dear,  that  it  is  of  course  a  very  dif- 
ferent thing  here.  Kate  and  I  ride  a  great 
deal ;  and  I  hope  you  will  ride  with  us.  You 
must  learn  at  once.  Mr.  J\Iat  will  be  an  ex- 
cellent riding-master  for  you." 

"  It  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to  ride 
with  you.  Lady  Farnleigh,"  replied  Marga- 
ret, with  just  the  slightest  perceptible  accent 
on  the  "  you  ;  "  "  but  I  am  afraid  I  should 
be  very  stupid  at  it." 

"  Oh,  you  would  soon  learn,  with  Mr.  Mat 
for  your  master,"  rejoined  Kate. 

"  Kate  was  to  have  ridden  over  to  see  me 
to-morrow,"  pursued  Lady  Farnleigh,  "  and 
I  hoped  that  you  would  have  come  with  her ; 
but  now  it  seems  you  are  to  go  into  Silverton 
to-morrow  ;  and  the  day  after — has  Kate  told 
you  ? — I  am  going  to  bring  an  old  friend  of 
mine  to  make  acquaintance  with  you  all 
here." 

"  No,  I  have  not  told  her  yet,"  said  Kate. 
"  An  accession  ta  our  rather  limited  assort- 
ment of  beaux,  Margaret ! — Mr. — or  Captain 
should  I  say?  " 

"  Captain,  by  courtesy,"  said  Lady  Farn- 
leigh, "  though  that  is  not  his  real  rank  in 
the  navy.  But  he  is  called  Captain — the 
Ilonorable  Captain  Ellingham." 

"The  Honorable  Captain  Ellingham.  Is 
he  the  son  of  a  lord,  then?  "  asked  jNIarga- 
ret  who  seemed  remarkably  well  versed  in  sucli 
niceties  of  English  social  distinctions,  for  a 


34  LINDISFARN 

young  lady  whose  entire  life  bad  been  spent 
m  France.  But  it  is  to  be  presumed  that 
Madame  de  Renneville  had  given  her  person- 
al care  to  that  branch  of  her  niece's  educa- 
tion. 

"  Yes,  Walter  Elliugham  is  the  son  of  Lord 
Ellingham  ;  but  for  all  that  he  is  a  very  poor 
man,  Margaret,"  replied  Lady  Farnleigh. 

"  Are  lords  ever  poor?  "  asked  Margaret, 
with  a  surprised  and  somewhat  disappointed 
expression  of  face. 

"Yes,  my  dear;  a  poor  lord  is  unfortu- 
nately a  by  no  means  unprecedented  phenom- 
enon," replied  Lady  Farnleigh.  "  And  what 
is  stiil  more  lamentable,  and  still  more  to  the 
purpose,  when  a  lord  is  poor,  his  third  son  is 
apt  to  be  still  poorer." 

"And  the  Honorable  Captain  Ellingham 
is  Lord  Ellingham 's  third  son  ?  "  asked  Mar- 
garet. 

"  Even  so,  "  said  Lady  Farnleigh. 

"  Is  the  Mr.  Falconer  you  were  telling  me 
of  last  night,  Kate,  a  poor  man  too  ?  "  asked 
Margaret,  after  a  pause. 

"  I  should  think  not,"  said  Kate  ;  "  I  don't 
know  at  all.  I  never  remember  to  have  heard 
the  subject  alluded  to.  But  he  is  old  Mr. 
Falconer's  only  child,  and  I  should  suppose 
that  he  must  be  rich." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  there  is  no  mistake  about  that 
at  all,"  said  Lady  Farnleigh  ;  "  Mr.  Falconer, 
the  banker,  is  well  known  to  be  a  very '  warm  ' 
man,  and  if  you  are  not  English  enough  yet, 
Margaret,  my  dear,  to  understand  the  mean- 
ing of  that  phrase,  you  will  at  least  have  no 
difficulty  in  comprehending  what  I  mean  when 
I  say  that  Mr.  Freddy  Falconer  is  an  ex- 
tremely desirable  ^  parti. ^  You  will  find 
that  all  the  young  ladies  at  Silverton,  includ- 
ing your  sister,"  continued  Lady  Farnleigh, 
with  an  archly  malicious  look  at  Kate,  "  con- 
sider him  such,  and  all  the  old  ladies,  too, 
— except  one." 

' '  You  are  always  to  pay  implicit  attention 
to  all  Lady  Farnleigh  says,  sister  dear,  when 
she  talks  common  sense,"  said  Kate;  "  but 
you  are  never  to  pay  the  slightest  attention 
to  a  word  she  utters  when  she  has  got  her 
nonsense-cap  on.  And  if  you  are  in  any 
doubt  upon  the  subject,  you  have  only  to  ask 
me  ;  for  I  am  her  goddaughter,  and  know  the 
ways  of  her." 

"  That  is  calling  me  a  fool,  by  implication  ; 
and  you  have  been  told,  Kate,  once  this  morn- 
ing already,  on  the  authority  of  Madame  de 


CHASE. 

Renneville,"  said  Lady  Farnleigh  grasseyant 
in  the  most  perfect  Parisian  style,  "  how  vul- 
gar it  is  to  do  so.  But  I  am  afraid  you  are 
incorrigible.  What  can  we  do  to  improve 
her  manners,  my  dear?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  shall  always  be  very  happy," 
began  poor  Margaret,  dropping  her  eyelids,  and 
speaking  with  a  sort  of  purring  consciousness 
of  superiority. 

But  Kate,  who,  as  she  had  very  truly  said, 
knew  the  ways  of  her  godmother,  and  per- 
ceived with  dismay  that  she  was  beginning 
already  to  conceive  a  prejudice  against  Mar- 
garet, hurried  to  rescue  her  from  the  damag- 
ing and  dangerous  position  which  she  saw 
was  being  prepared  for  her. 

"  Now,  you  malicious  fairy  godmother, 
don't  be  hypocritical.  It  was  you  who  told 
Margaret  that  I  was  in  the  habit  of  calling 
you  bad  names.  What  could  she  think? 
And  her  remark  thereon  was  very  natural. 
Now  I  wont  let  you  turn  yourself  all  of  a 
sudden  into  the  shape  of  a  great  white  cat, 
and  hunt  her,  poor  little  mouse,  all  round 
the  room.  I  can  see  by  the  look  of  you  that 
that  is  what  you're  bent  on." 

"  What  would  Madame  de  Renneville  say  to 
that?"  exclaimed  Lady  Farnleigh,  turning 
to  Margaret  with  a  look  of  appeal. 

"Never  mind  Madame  de  Renneville" — 
began  Kate. 

"  Kate  !  "  cried  Margaret,  in  atone  deeply 
laden  with  reproach,  but  skilfully  modulated 
so  as  to  seem  uttered  more  in  sorrow  than  in 
anger,  and  casting  her  eyes  on  her  sister  with 
an  appealing  look  of  warning,  reproof,  and 
tenderness  combined. 

And  "  Kate  !  "  re-echoed  Lady  Farnleigh, 
in  a  similar  tone,  and  with  a  similar  look. 

It  became  very  evident  to  Kate's  experi- 
enced perception  that  her  godmamma  was 
getting  dangerous,  and  was  bent  on  mischief. 
But  she  was  fully  determined  to  prevent,  or 
at  all  events  not  to  contribute  to  her  sister's 
becoming  the  victim  of  it.  It  was  as  much 
as  she  could  do  to  prevent  herself  from  laugh- 
ing at  Lady  Farnleigh's  last  bit  of  parody. 
But  biting  her  lips  to  preserve  her  gravity, 
she  continued, — 

"  What  I  wanted  to  say  was,  to  ask  on 
what  authority  you  include  me  among  the 
young  ladies  who  are  so  enthusiastic  on  the 
subject  of  Mr.  Falconer's  eligibility." 

"Kate!"  said  her  incorrigible  ladyship 
again,  in  the  same  accent  and  manner  as  be- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


35 

stables,  and  mount  there;  I  want  to  show 
Birdie  to  Margaret." 

Birdie  was  a  beautiful  black  mare,  nearly 
thorough -bred,  which  had  been  a  present 
from  Lady  Farnleigh  to  her  goddaughter  ; 
and  of  all  her  treasures  it  was  the  one  which 
Kate  valued  the  most,  and  was  the  most  proud 
of.  A  competent  judge  would  have  found  a 
long  list  of  good  points  to  admire  in  Birdie  ; 
but  even  the  most  unskilled  eye  could  not  fail 
to  be  struck  by  the  exceeding  beauty  of  the 
coat,  glossier  than  satin  ;  by  the  fineness  of 
the  skin,  as  evidenced  by  the  great  veins  in 
the  neck  showing  through  it ;  by  the  dainty 
elegance  of  the  legs  and  pasterns  ;  and  above 
all,  by  the  beauty  of  the  small  head,  with  its 
eyes,  as  keen,  Kate  used  to  say,  as  a  hawk's, 
and  as  gentle  as  a  dove's. 

Margaret  was  accordingly  much  struck  by 
Birdie's  beauty,  as  the  groom  walked  her 
about  the  stable-yard  for  the  ladies  to  look 
at. 

"  Oh,  what  a  lovely  creature!  "  she  ex- 
claimed ;  "  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  are 
fond  of  riding  on  such  a  horse  as  that.  But 
it  would  be  a  very  different  thing  to  ride  on  any 
one  of  these  great  clumsy-looking  beasts.  I 
can  never  expect  to  have  such  a  horse  as  that 
to  ride  !  "  lamented  Margaret,  as  she  very  ac- 
curately figured  to  herself  the  charming  pic- 
ture she  would  make,  mounted  in  a  becoming 
amazon  costume  upon  so  showily  beautiful  a 
steed. 

"  You  shall  ride  Birdie,  sister  dear,  and 
welcome,  as  soon  as  you  have  made  some  lit- 
tle progress  under  Mr.  Mat's  tuition  ;  but  I 
think  you  must  begin  with  something  a  little 
steadier  ;  for  my  darling  Birdie,  though  she  is 
as  gentle  as  a  lamb,  is  apt  to  be  a  little  lively, 
the  pretty  creature." 

"  But  I  don't  like  the  look  of  the  something 
steadier,"  pouted  Margaret. 

"  Nevertheless,  it  is  my  advice,  my  dear," 
said  Lady  Farnleigh,  "  that  you  do  not  at- 
tempt to  mount  Birdie  till  jMr.  Mat  is  ready 
to  give  you  a  certificate  of  competency.  Birdie 
is  not  for  every  one's  riding." 

"  But  Kate  can  ride  her,"  returned  Marga- 
ret, somewhat  discontentedly. 

"Ay!  but  Kate,  let   me   tell  you,"   said 

Lady  Farnleigh,    "  is   about   the   best   lady 

leave  you  ;  for  of  course  you  want  to  be  alone  |  rider  in  the  country.     Good-by,  girls.     You 

together.     May  I  ask  if  Giles  is  there?  "         I  must  give  me  an  early  day  at  AYanstrow,  my 

"  Yes.     But  come  down  with  us   to  the  i  dear.     When  shall  it  be  ?  why  not  Wcdnee- 


fore.  But  having  been  admonished  by  a  look 
ofentreaty  from  her  goddaughter,  administered 
aside,  which  she  perfectly  well  understood, 
she  said, — 

"  Why,  do  you  not  think  bo?  Does  any- 
body not  think  so  ?  Is  he  not  very  undenia- 
bly an  eligible  '  parti '  ?  Margaret  very  ju- 
diciously asked,  before  making  up  her  mind 
on  the  subject,  whether  he,  too,  was  as  poor  as 
Walter  Ellingham.  But  we,  who  are  well 
informed  on  that  point  can  have  no  doubts  on 
the  subject.  Why,  old  Mr.  Falconer  must 
be  made  of  gold  ;  whereas  my  poor  friend 
Walter  has  but  one  bit  of  gold  belonging  to 
him,  to  the  best  of  my  belief.  There  can  be 
no  doubt,  I  think,  which  is  the  eligible  and 
which  is  the  ineligible  man.  It  is  clear 
enough  ;  is  it  not,  Margaret?  " 

But  Kate,  who  was  very  anxious  that  her 
sister  should  not  put  her  foot  into  the  spring- 
trap  thus  laid  for  her,  but  who  nevertheless 
feared,  in  a  manner  which  she  unquestionably 
would  not  have  feared  a  few  hours  ago,  that 
Margaret  might,  if  left  to  herself,  run  a  dan- 
ger of  doing  so,  once  again  hurried  to  the 
rescue,  by  saying, — 

"  One  bit  of  gold  !  What  can  you  mean, 
you  enigmatical  fairy  ?  What  is  the  one  bit 
of  gold  that  Captain  Ellingham  possesses, 
and  how  did  he  come  by  it  ?  " 

"  Really  I  do  not  know  how  he  came  by 
it ;  but  I  never  knew  him  without  it.  He 
always  carries  it  inside  his  waistcoat." 

"  What,  a  gold  watch?  "  asked  Margaret, 
innocently. 

"  To  be  sure,  a  gold  watcb,"  replied  Lady 
Farnleigh  ;  "  what  in  the  world  else  of  gold 
could  a  man  have  thereabouts?  How  dull 
you  are,  Kate,  this  morning  !" 

"  I  always  am  dull  at  riddles  ;  but  we  all 
know  that  a  man  carries  a  heart  inside  his 
waistcoat ;  and  I  suppose  that  is  the  article 
that  your  friend  has  of  gold,  as  you  say.  I 
see,  at  all  events,  that  he  is  a  favorite  of  yours, 
godmamma." 

"He  is,"  said  Lady  Farnleigh,  briefly; 
"  and  you  will  all  of  you  have  an  opportunity 
of  judging,"  she  continued,  "  whether  he  de- 
serves to  be  so  ;  for  your  father  has  very  kindly 
bidden  me  to  bring  him  to  dine  here  the  day 
after   to-morrow.     And   now,  girls,  I   shall ; 


36 


day?  I  am  to  dine  here  on  Friday,  the  day 
after  to-morrow.  Will  yoa  say  "Wednesday, 
Kate?  Make  your  father  come,  if  you  can. 
If  not,  get  Mr.  Jlat  to  come  over  with  you. 
And  come  early." 

"  I  do  not  think  papa  will  come,"  said 
Kate  ;  "but  we  shall  be  delighted.  Sir.  Mat 
shall  drive  Margaret  in  the  gig,  and  I  will 
ride." 

"  That's  agreed  then.     Good-by." 

"  Now  shall  I  show  you  the  garden?  "  said 
Kate,  after  the  two  girls  had  watched  Lady 
Farnleigh  as  she  rode  down  toward  the  lodge 
till  she  was  out  of  sight. 

"  No,  not  now,  I  think.  Let  us  go  and 
finish  unpacking  and  putting  away  my  things. 
I  have  ever  so  many  more  things  to  show  you. 
And  besides,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  all  about 
this  Mr.  Falconer." 

"  The  all  is  soon  told,"  said  Kate  ;  "  but 
first  you  tell  me  what  you  think  of  my  god- 
mother;  is  she  not  a  darling?  " 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"  I  hardly  know  whether  I  like  her  or  not," 
said  Margaret.  "  I  feel  somehow  not  safe 
with  her ;  and  I  can't  quite  make  her  out. 
One  thing  was  quite  clear,  that  she  was  not 
well  pleased  with  your  calling  her  a  fairy,  and 
making  fun  of  her  in  that  way.  Tell  me," 
added  she,  musingly,  after  a  pause,  during 
which  Kate  had  been  pondering  whether  it 
would  be  better  to  attempt  making  her  sister 
understand  Lady  Farnleigh  a  little  better  at 
once,  or  to  leave  it  to  time  to  do  so, — "  tell 
me  whether  the  six  thousand  pounds  that  you 
are  to  have  from  her — that  is  a  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  francs,  is  it  not  ? — are  settled 
on  you,  or  only  given  you  by  her  will?  " 

"  I  declare  I  don't  know,"  returned  Kate, 
surprised;  "I  had  never  thought  about  it. 
No  doubt  papa  knows  all  about  it.  Why  do 
you  ask?  " 

"  Oh  !  only  that  the  one  is  certain,  and  the 
other  uncertain  ;  that  is  all,"  answered  Mar- 
garet . 


LliXDISFARN    CHAS] 


CHAPTEK  Vir. 
JMY   "things." 

So  the  two  girls — the  Lindisfarn  lasses,  as 
Mr.  Mat  called  them,  the  Lindisfarn  co-heir- 
esses, as  they  have  been  called  in  a  preceding 
chapter — returned  to  the  house.  It  may  be 
as  well,  however,  to  explain  before  going  any 
further  that  they  were  not  very  accurately  so 
called.  They  were  in  no  legal  sense  co-heir- 
esses to  the  Lindisfarn  property  ;  for  the  en- 
tail Vi'cnt  no  further  than  the  male  heir  of 
Oliver,  and,  failing  such,  the  male  heir  of 
his  brother.  Failing  male  heirs  of  both  of 
these,  the  property  was  at  the  disposal  of  the 
squire.  But  nobody  had  any  doubt  that  his 
two  daughters  would  inherit  the  property, 
as  was  natural,  in  equal  proportions.  Nev- 
ertheless, it  was  in  the  squire's  power  to  mod- 
ify the  disposition  of  it  in  any  manner  he 
might  think  fit.  The  two  girls,  on  Marga- 
ret's proposition,  as  has  been  said,  returned 
to  their  rooms  to  complete  the  delightful 
work  of  unpacking  the  Parisian  sister's  ward- 
robe, which  the  dinner  hour  had  compelled 
them  to  leave  in  the  midst  on  the  previous 
evening. 

A  rapid  progress  was  made  in  the  unpack- 
ing ;  but  the  "  putting  away,"  did  not  pro- 
ceed with  equal  celerity.  There  was  all  the 
difference  that  there  is  between  destroying  a 
theory  or  system,  and  reconstructing  it. 
Pulling  down,  alas!  is  always  quicker  and 
easier  work  than  building  up.  And  in  the 
present  instance  the  more  laborious  and  less 
amusing  task  was  laft  to  Simmons.  Of  course 
Margaret  had  the  most  to  show  ;  and  then 
her  "  things  "  were  Parisian  "things."  Toi- 
lettes and  demi-toilettes,  toilettes  de  bal,  and 
toilettes  du  bois,  toilettes  de  matin,  and  toilettes 
de  soir  !  A  brilliant  dioramic  exhibition,  il- 
lustrated, and  varied  by  interspe«-sed  disqui- 
sitions and  explanations  of  the  glories  and 
pleasures  of  the  French  metropolis. 

Kate's  wardrobe  contained  but  one  costume 
which  was  not  outshone  by  anything  in  its 
own  department  belonging  to  that  of  her  sis- 
ter, and  which  attracted  Margaret's  special 
interest  and  admiration, — her  riding-habit 
and  its  appendages.  Nothing  would  satisfy 
her  but  that  Kate  should  put  herself  in  com- 
plete riding-dress ;  and  when  she  had  done 
so,  jMargaret  insisted  on  trying  on  the  habit 
herself.  And  then  it  appeared,  and  was 
specially  noted  and  pointed  out  by  the  Paris- 
ian-bred girl,  that  her  waist  was  a  trifle  slen- 


37 

dcrer  than  tliat  of  her  sister  ;  which  produced 
from  Miss  Simmons  the  observation  that  there 
was  not  more  difference  than  there  should  be 
for  Miss  Kate's  somewhat  superior  height; 
and  the  judicially  pronounced  declaration, 
that  "  It  have  been  considered.  Miss  ^largaret, 
that  Miss  Kate's  figure,  specially  a  horseback, 
is  the  perfectcst  tiling  as  ever  was  seen  !  " 

"Don't  talk  nonsense,  Simmons!"  said 
Kate  ;  "  but  just  take  two  or  three  pins,  and 
see  if  you  can  pin  up  the  habit  so  as  to  make 
it  fit  Margaret's  waist.  There  !  "  she  con- 
tinued, as  the  handy  servant  accomplished 
the  task,  "  did  anybody  ever  see  a  nicer  fig- 
ure for  the  saddle?  Now  the  hat,  Margaret. 
Just  the  least  in  the  world  on  one  side. 
That's  it.  Oh,  you  must  ride.  You  do  not 
know  how  the  dress  becomes  you  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  look  well  in  it !  "  said 
Margaret,  admiring  herself  in  a  Psyche  glass, 
as  she  spoke.  "  And  it  would  be  better,  you 
know,  in  a  habit  made  for  me." 

"  And  look,  Margaret ;  I  must  teach  you 
how  to  hold  up  your  habit  when  you  walk  In 
it.  Look  here  !  You  should  gather  it  in 
your  right  hand  thus,  so  as  to  let  it  fall  in 
a  graceful  fold  ;  do  you  understand?  " 

"Oh,  yes;  that  is  very  easy,"  said  Mar- 
garet, watking  across  the  room,  and  catching 
the  mode  of  doing  so  gracefully  with  admi- 
rable tact  and  readiness.  "  If  the  riding  were 
only  as  easy  as  that !  But  Lady  Farnleigh 
showed  a  leetle  more  of  her  boot  in  walking. 
I  think  one  might  venture  just  to  let  the  in- 
step be  seen,"  she  continued,  putting  out, 
as  she  spoke,  from  under  the  heavy  folds  of 
the  habit  a  lovely  little  slender  foot  in  its  ex- 
quisite Parisian  brodequin. 

"  Oh,  you  are  beyond  me,  already,  Mar- 
garet!  "  cried  Kate,  laughing;  "I  never 
dreamed  of  considering  the  matter  so  artisti- 
cally. But  certainly,  it  would  be  a  pity  to 
hide  that  foot  of  yours  more  than  need  be. 
Only,  darling,  that  charming  little  French 
boot  would  hardly  be  the  thing  for  our  Sill- 
shire  riding,  let  alone  walking." 

"  I  can't  bear  a  thick  boot,"  said  IMarga- 
ret.  "  And,  Kate,  don'tyou  think  that  without 
being  trop  hasarde,  one  might  put  the  hat 
just  a  soupcon  more  on  the  left  side, — so? 
There,  that  is  charming !  How  well  the 
black  hat  goes  with  the  mat  white  of  my 
complexion  !     Does  it  not,  now?  " 

And  in  truth,  the  figure  at  which  both  the 
girls,  with  Simmons  behind  them,  were  gaz- 


38  LINDISFAR 

iug  in  the  large  Psyche  was  as  attractive  a 
one  as  could  well  be  imagined. 

Just  as  they  were  thus  engaged,  having 
let  the  day  run  away  tiU  it  was  near  dinner- 
time, there  came  a  tremendous  thump  at  the 
door,  which  made  Margaret  jjmp  as  if  she 
had  been  struck,  while  it  produced  from  Kate, 
to  her  sister's  no  little  dismay,  a  laughing, 
"Come  in,  Noll!  Come  in,  and  see  what 
we  are  about !  " 

And  in  the  next  instant,  the  squire,  who 
had  just  returned  from  his  shooting,  was 
standing  in  the  midst  of  all  the  varied  dis- 
play of  finery  which  occupied  every  chair  and 
other  piece  of  furniture  in  the  room. 

"  Why,  girls,  you  are  holding  a  regular 
rag-fair  !  What,  Margy — ret !  is  that  you? 
1  am  glad  to  see  that  riding  toggery  makes 
part  of  your  wardrobe.  That  is  better  luck 
than  I  looked  for.  And  upon  my  word,  you 
look  very  well  in  it — very  well  !  " 

"It  is  my  riding-habit,  Noll  ;  Margaret 
■was  only  trying  it  on.  Does  it  not  become 
her?    She  must  get  one  without  loss  of  time." 

"  Unluckily,  1  have  never  learned  to  ride, 
papa,"  said  Margaret. 

"  Oh,  we  shall  soon  teach  you  here,  my 
love.  We'll  make  a  horsewoman  of  you, 
never  fear !  I  came  up  to  tell  you  what  I 
have  been  doing,  girls.  I  asked  Lady  Farn- 
leigh,  you  know,  to  bring  her  friend.  Captain 
EUingham,  to  dinner  on  Friday.  Well,  I 
thought  it  would  be  neighborly  to  introduce 
him  to  some  of  the  people  at  the  same  time. 
So  1  have  asked  the  Falconers,  father  and  son. 
I  fell  in  with  the  old  gentleman  down  at  the 
Ivy  Bridge,  looking  to  see  if  he  could  find  any 
traces  of  the  graves  of  some  soldiers  of  the 
garrison  of  Silverton  Castle,  that  he  says 
were  buried  there  at  the  time  of  the  civil 
wars.  And  I  told  Mat  to  ask  my  brother 
and  sister-in-law.  She  wont  come,  of  course. 
Mat  is  not  returned  yet ;  but  we  shall  know 
at  dinner  whether  the  doctor  can  come. 
And  as  I  was  coming  home  by  Upper  Weston 
Coppice  I  met  Mr.  Merriton,  the  new  man  at 
the  Friary,  and  asked  him  and  his  sister." 

"  W  hy,  we  shall  have  quite  a  large  party 
Noll,"  said  Kate.  "Miss  Immy  will  say 
that  she  has  not  notice  enough  to  make  due 
pi'eparations." 

"  Stuti'and  nonsense !  What  preparations 
are  needed,  beyond  having  plenty  of  dinner? 
I  thought  it  a  good  opportunity  to  bring  the 
people  together  and  make  acquaintance  with 


N    CHASE. 

these  new  folks.  They  are  friends  of  the 
Falconers ;  and  he  seems  a  very  gentleman- 
like sort  of  fellow." 

The  new  people  thus  spoken  of  were  the 
owners,  having  quite  recently  become  such — 
or  rather,  Mr.  Merriton  was  the  owner — of 
the  small  but  exceedingly  pretty  and  service- 
ible  estate  and  mansion  called  the  Friary,  at 
Weston  Friary.  Arthur  Merriton  and  his 
ster  Emily  had  been  the  wards  of  the  head 
of  the  firm  who  were  jMeesrs.  Falconer  and 
Fishbourne's  London  correspondents ;  and 
were  the  children  of  an  English  merchant, 
settled  for  many  years  in  Sicily,  by  an  Italian 
wife.  They  had  been  left  orphans  at  an  early 
age;  and  had  been,  together  with  the  very 
considerable  fortraae  left  by  their  father,  un- 
der the  care  of  the  London  banker  since  that 
time.  It  was  only  a  year  since  Mr.  Merriton 
had  come  of  age.  His  sister  was  two  years 
older,  and  they  had  recently  come  to  live  at 
the  Friary,  the  purchase  of  which  had  been 
arranged  and  concluded  on  Mr.  Merri ton's 
behalf,  by  Mr.  Falconer  of  Silverton. 

"  How  many  does  that  make  altogether?" 
asked  Kate,  intent  on  getting  the  subject  into 
fit  shape  for  presentation  to  the  mind  of  Miss 
Immy. 

"  I  have  not  counted  noses,"  answered  her 
father  ;  "but  it  can't  be  such  a  large  party 
after  all." 

"  Let  us  see.  We  are  five  at  home,  two 
gentlemen  and  three  ladies ;  and  Uncle  The- 
ophilus  will  make  us  up  half  a  dozen,  three 
and  three.  Lady  Farnleigh  and  Captain  El- 
lingham  will  make  eight ;  and  Mr.  Merriton 
and  his  sister  ten ;  and  the  gentlemen  and 
ladies  are  still  equal.  But  then  come  the 
two  JMr.  Falconers,  and  make  us  seven  gen- 
tlemen to  five  ladies." 

"  And  that  will  do  very  well.  We  shall 
be  four  old  fellows  to  three  youngsters :  I 
and  my  brother,  and  Mat  and  old  Falconer ; 
and  young  Falconer,  Merriton,  who  seems 
little  more  than  a  lad,  and  Captain  EUing- 
ham." 

"  Lady  Farnleigh  did  not  seem  to  speak 
of  him  as  nearly  so  young  a  man,"  replied 
Kate;  "he  will  be  half-way  between  you 
seniors  and  the  young  men.  She  spoke  of 
him  more  as  a  friend  of  her  own  standing." 

"Well,  her  own  standing  is  nothing  so 
very  venerable.  But  she  mentioned  the  age 
of  this  Captain  Ellingham.  He  is  thirty  ; 
and  Freddy  Falconer  is,  I  know,  seven-and- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


twenty, 
cnce." 

"  No, 
fercncc. 
look   on 


So  there  is  no  such   great  differ- 


fiaid  Kate  ;  "  that  is  very  little  dif- 
Only  one  has  always  been  used  to 
Freddy  Falconer  in  the  liglit  of  a 
young  man,  and  a  captain  in  Ilia  Majesty's 
Navy  seems  such  a  grave  and  staid  sort  of 
personage." 

"  Well,  we  shall  see.  But  I  protest  against 
tlie  mere  count  of  years  being  considered  to 
decide  the  question  whether  a  man  is  old  or 
not ;  for  if  that  be  the  case,  you  will  be  mak- 
ing me  out  to  be  old  myself,  next !  Well,  I 
suppose  it  is  pretty  nearly  time  to  go  and 
dress  for  dinner." 

Margaret,  who  had  been  apparently  occu- 
pied during  all  this  conversation  between  her 
father  and  Kate,  with  trying  the  effect  of 
divers  positions  and  modes  of  standing,  as  she 
continued  to  admire  the  becomingness  of  the 
riding-habit  in  the  Psyche,  had,  nevertheless, 
lost  no  word  of  what  had  passed.  And  when 
the  squire  left  the  room,  she  was  engaged  in 
meditating  how  far  the  words  her  sister  had 
used  in  speaking  of  Mr.  Frederick  Falconer 
might  l)e  considered  as  corroboratory  of  the 
half-jesting  accusation  Lady  Farnleigh  had 
breught  against  Kate,  of  being  included  in 
the  number  of  those  who  were  inclined  to 
consider  that  young  gentleman  as  a  very  de- 
sirable "  jDar^i." 

"Here,  then,"  she  said,  when  her  father 
was  gone,  "  is  another  accession  to  your  col- 
lection of  Silverton  beaux,  according  to  what 
papa  says.  Have  you  ever  seen  this  Mr. 
Merriton,  Kate?" 

"  No,  never  ;  neither  him,  nor  his  sister. 
Cut  I  had  heard  of  them  before.  I  fancy 
they  are  nice  people.  They  are  quite  new- 
comers to  Sdlshire,  and  know  nobody  here 
but  the  Falconers." 

"  Do  they  live  in  Silverton  ?  "  asked  Mar- 
garet. 

"  No,  they  have  bought  an  estate  at  Wes- 
ton Friary, — such  a  charming  village  down 
in  the  valley  at  the  end  of  the  water-meads, 
not  more  than  a  couple  of  miles  above  the 
town.  One  of  our  first  excursions  must  be 
to  Weston." 

"  What,  to  call  on  these  people?  " 

"  No,  1  meant  to  see  the  village,  it  is  such 
a'pretty  place.  But  now  it  will  be  neces- 
sary, of  course,  to  call  on  the  new-comers  ; 
and  we  can  do  that  too.  The  Friary  is  a 
sweetly  pretty  house  and  grounds."  | 


39 

"  Is  that  the  name  of  their  place  ?  " 
"  Yes.  I  believe  it  was  a  monastery  once 
upon  a  time.  If  you  want  to  win  the  heart 
of  Uncle  Theophilus  or  of  old  Mr.  Falconer, 
on  the  spot,  you  have  only  to  ask  them  tu 
tell  you  all  about  it.  Only  they  are  quife 
sure  to  tell  you  different  stories  ;  and  you 
will  mortally  offend  either  of  them  if  you 
give  credence  to  the  story  of  the  other." 

"One  must  speak  to  them  separately 
then,"  said  Margaret,  apparently  with  all 
seriousness.  "But  you  said,"  she  contin- 
ued, "  that  it  was  an  estate  that  Mr.  Merri- 
ton had  bought  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  estate  is  called  the  Friary  Es- 
tate from  the  name  of  the  house.  It  is  a 
small  estate  ;  but  full  of  such  pretty  bits  of 
country.  It  is  quite  celebrated  for  its  beauty 
in  the  county." 

"  Then  I  suppose  Mr.  Merriton  must  be 
rich  ;  or  at  least  a  man  of  independent  proi> 
erty?" 

"I  suppose  so,"  answered  Kate;  "but  I 
have  not  heard  any  one  say  anything  on  the 
subject." 

And  then  Margaret  divested  herself  of  tlie 
riding-habit,  after  a  last  long  and  wistful 
look  in  the  glass,  and  inwardly-registered 
vow  that  she  would  allow  no  disagreeables  to 
interfere  with  her  learning  to  ride  as  quickly 
as  possible,  and  the  girls  proceeded  to  dress 
for  dinner.  And  that  ceremony  passed  some- 
what more  pleasantly  than  it  had  done  yes- 
terday. Margaret  delighted  Mr.  Mat  by  ask- 
ing him  if  he  thought  he  could,  and  kindly 
would,  undertake  the  office  of  riding-master 
on  her  behalf ;  and  much  talk  passed  between 
them  on  the  subject.  Then  there  was  talk 
about  the  dinner-party  on  the  day  after  the 
morrow.  The  doctor,  Mr.  Mat  brought  word, 
would  come.  But  Lady  Serapronia  excused 
herself,  as  usual,  on  the  plea  of  indifferent 
health.  And  then  the  excursion  into  Silver- 
ton  for  the  morrow  was  talked  about  and 
arranged.  The  squire,  who  rarely  was  seen 
in  Silverton  High  Street,  except  at  times  of 
Quarter-Sessions,  or  other  suchlike  occa- 
sions, excused  himself:  and  Mr.  Mat  de- 
clared, also,  that  if  his  services  were  not 
wanted,  he  had  much  to  do  at  home  ;  and 
none  of  his  hearers  were  so  unkind  as  to  ask 
him  what  it  was.  Miss  Immy,  on  the  other 
hand,  declared  that  it  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary that  she  should  go  to  Silverton,  even  if 
she  were  to  go  alone,  with  a  view  to  matters 


40 

connected  with  the  next  day's  dinner.  It 
would  he  absolutely  necessary,  she  said,  to 
send  a  message  down  to  Sillmouth,  if  they 
wanted  a  decent  bit  of  fish  ;  and  even  so  the 
people  made  a  favor  of  it.  For  of  late  years 
all  the  best  fish  was  sent  off  to  London,  in  a 
way  that  used  not  to  be  the  case  when  Miss 
Immy  was  young,  and  which  she  seemed  to 
think  involved  much  tyranny  and  overbear- 
ing injustice  on  the  part  of  the  Londoners 
against  the  ''■Zillshire  folk." 

"  Come,  Miss  Immy,"  said  the  squire, 
apologetically  ;  "  the  Londoners  never  refuse 
to  let  me  have  the  pick  of  their  market  for 
my  cellar." 

"But  fish  is  not  wine;  and  wine  is  not 
fish,"  said  Miss  Immy,  distinguishing  and 
separately  emphasizing  the  two  propositions 
by  a  distinct  system,  as  it  were,  of  little  pal- 
sied shakes  of  the  head  applied  to  each  of 
them.  "And  I  should  think,  Mr.  Lindis- 
farn,  that  you  were  the  only  person  who  had 
ever  supposed  them  to  be  so,"  added  the  old 
lady,  with  much  triumph. 

So  it  was  arranged  that  the  cari'iage 
should  be  ordered,  and  that  the  two  young 
iadies  should  accompany  Miss  Immy,  and 
should  be  deposited  at  the  doctor's  house  in 
the  Close,  so  that  the  new-comer  might  make 
acquaintance  with  her  relatives,  and  also 
with  Silverton,  to  any  such  extent  as  oppor- 
tunity might  be  found  for  doing,  while  Miss 
Immy  was  driving  about  the  town  intent  on 
her  household  cares. 

CHAPTER   VIII. 
MARGARET'S  DEBUT  IN  THE  CLOSE. 

Thomas  Tibbs,  the  coachman  at  the  Chase, 
held  as  a  fundamental  axiom,  that  any  man 
as  wanted  to  drive  from  the  Chase  to  Silver- 
ton  turnpike  in  lees  than  an  hour  and  twenty- 
five  minutes,  had  not  no  business  to  sit  be- 
hind a  gentleman's  horses.  If  called  on  to 
pursue  the  subject,  he  was  wont  to  do  so 
after  the  same  fashion  of  dialectic  that  Miss 
Immy  had  used  with  regard  to  the  fish  and 
the  wine.  "A  gen'elman's  carriage,"  he 
would  justly  observe,  "  is  not  Ilis  Majesty's 
Mail ;  and  His  Majesty's  Mail  is  not  a  gen'el- 
man's carriage — leastways,  not  a  gen'elman's 
private  carriage,"  he  would  add,  to  avoid  the 
possibility  of  leading  to  any  unfavorable  con- 
clusion as  to  the  gentility  of  the  first  gentle- 
man in  Europe.  "  Whereby  it's  not  the 
value  of  five  minutes  you  has  to  look  to,  but 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


the  condition  of  your  cattle,"  said  Thomas 
Tibbs.  The  hill  up  from  the  Ivy  Bridge  over 
the  Lindisfarn  Brook  to  the  turnpike  that 
stood  just  where  the  city  wall  had  once  crossed 
the  present  road,  was  a  very  steep  pitch  ; 
and  upon  the  whole,  the  hour  and  twenty- 
five  minutes  claimed  for  the  work  by  Thomas 
Tibbs  was  not  an  unreasonable  demand.  His 
further  unalterable  allowance  of  five  minutes 
from  the  turnpike  to  the  door  of  Dr.  Lindis- 
farn's  house  in  the  Close  may  seem  to  have 
been  more  open  to  exception.  But  Thomas 
Tibbs,  who  would  have  looked  down  with  in- 
tense contempt  from  the  altitude  of  a  supe- 
rior civilization  on  the  Celtic  endeavor  to 
hide  inefiicient  poverty  under  false  brag  by 
"  keeping  a  trot  for  the  avenue,"  maintained 
that  "  any  man  who  knew  what  horses  was, 
knew  the  vally  of  bringing  'em  in  cool ;  " 
and  nothing  could  tempt  him  to  exceed  the 
very  gentlest  amble  between  the  Silverton 
turnpike  and  the  canon's  door. 

From  which  circumstance  it  follows  that, 
although  the  Lindisfarn  ladies  had  bustled 
over  their  breakfast  in  a  manner  that  sug- 
gested the  idea  of  a  departure  for  the  Antip- 
odes, and  Miss  Immy  had  descended  to  the 
breakfast-room  with  her  round  brown  beaver 
hat  and  green  veil  on,  and  an  immense  para- 
sol, and  three  or  four  packages  in  her  hands, 
and  had  entered  the  room  giving  a  string  of 
directions  to  Benson,  the  housekeeper,  as  she 
walked, — notwithstanding  all  these  efibrts, 
the  cathedral  service  was  over  at  Silverton, 
and  Dr.  Lindisfarn  had  returned  to  his  study 
— it  not  being  a  Litany  day — before  the  car- 
riage from  trre  Chase  reached  the  Close. 

Miss  Immy  I'efused  to  alight  at  the  ca- 
non's door,  alleging  that  the  number  of  com- 
missions she  had  to  execute  would  leave  her 
not  a  minute  to  spare  between  that  time  and 
three  o'clock  ;  at  which  hour  it  was  arranged 
that  they  were  to  leave  Silverton,  in  order  to 
be  in  time  for  the  squire's  dinner  hour  at  the 
Chase, — five  o'clock  extended  by  special  grace 
on  occasion  of  family  progresses  to  Silverton 
to  half-past  five,  in  consequence  of  its  being 
every  inch  collar  work,  as  Thomas  Tibbs  de- 
clared, from  the  Ivy  Bridge  to  the  door  of  the 
Chase.  The  hour  which  Tibbs  claimed  as 
absolutely  necessary  for  his  horses  to  bait, 
Miss  Immy  purposed  spending,  as  was  hes 
usual  practice  on  similar  occasions,  with  Miss 
Lasseron,  the  sister  of  a  late  canon  of  Sil- 
verton. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


41 


It  was  perfectly  true  that  Miss  Laeseron 
was  the  very  old  friend,  and  ahnost  the  con- 
temporary, of  ^liss  Inimy ; — true  also  that 
Miss  Immy  very  much  preferred  the  nice  lit- 
tle dish  of  minced  veal  and  tall  ale-glass  full 
of  Miss  Lasseron's  home-brewed  amber  ale, 
with  which  her  friend  never  failed  to  regale 
her  when  she  needed  a  luncheon  in  Silverton, 
to  the  bit  of  stale  cake  and  glass  of  sherry 
that  the  Lady  Sempronia  was  wont  to  pro- 
duce on  similar  occasions.  Nevertheless,  I 
suspect  that  Miss  Immy's  avoidance  of  the 
house  in  the  Close,  whenever  she  could  de- 
cently do  so,  was  in  great  part  due  to  the 
small  sympathy  that  existed  between  her  and 
the  Lady  Sempronia.  The  latter  dared  not 
say  in  Sillshire  that  Miss  Imogene  Lindisfarn 
was  an  uneducated  and  vulgar  old  woman. 
But  few  who  knew  her  could  have  had  any 
doubt  that  such  was  pretty  accurately  a  cor- 
rect statement  of  her  real  opinion.  Miss  Im- 
ogene, on  her  side,  certainly  thought,  and 
did  dare  to  say  to  anybody  who  cared  to 
know  her  mind  on  the  sulyect,  that  Lady 
Sempronia  was  a  feckless  and  washed-out  fine 
lady,  and  very  stingy  to  boot.  And  the  Sil-. 
verton  and  Sillshire  world  were  much  in- 
clined to  accept  and  endorse  Miss  Immy's 
opinion.  Yet,  as  regarded  the  latter  part  of 
the  accusation,  it  was  hardly  a  fair  one.  The 
Sillshire  world  did  not  know  as  well  as  the 
Lady  Sempronia  that  all  her  stinginess  did 
not  avail  to  bring  Canon  Lindisfarn's  account 
with  Messrs.  Falconer  and  Fishbourne  to  a 
satisfactory  balance  at  the  end  of  the  year. 
And  those  who  had  a  general  knowledge  of 
that  fact  did  not  call  it  to  mind  on  occasions 
when,  in  justice  to  the  lady,  they  ought  to 
have  dilne  so.  It  certainly  was  not  Lady 
Sempronia's  stinginess  which  induced  her  to 
drive  out,  on  the  rare  occasions  on  which  she 
went  out  at  all,  in  a  shabby  old  one-horse  ve- 
hicle, which  really  made  a  fly  from  the  Lindis- 
farn Arms  look  smart  by  comparison.  And 
when  Miss  Piper,  the  milliner,  who  had  her 
show-room  over  the  shop  of  her  brother,  the 
perfumer,  in  the  High  Street,  told  ill-natured 
stories  among  her  customers  of  the  impossible 
feats  she  was  required  by  Lady  Sempronia  to 
perform,  in  the  way  of  producing  accui'ate 
imitations  of  the  new  French  fashions  from 
materials  that  had  already  undergone  more 
than  one  metamorphosis,  it  can  hardly  be 
doubted  that  the  poor  lady  would  have  pre- 
ferred ordering  a  new  silk,  had  the  choice  of 


doing  so  been  open  to  her.  It  was  all  very 
well,  as  Lady  Sempronia  had  been  heard  to 
say,  for  those  to  talk  whose  husl)and8  cared 
for  their  families  more  than  for  stones  and 
old  bones,  and  all  sorts  of  rubbish  ;  and  who 
were  content  with  reading  what  other  people 
had  printed  instead  of  printing  their  own  ! 
And  no  doubt  there  was  an  amount  of  truth 
in  these  lamentations  which  ought  to  have 
obtained  for  them  a  greater  degree  of  sympa- 
thy than  was  generally  shown  to  Lady  Sem- 
pronia. But  she  was  not  a  popular  person 
at  Silverton.  And  all  these  things  were 
' '  trials  ' '  to  her  ladyship.  Life  indeed  seemed 
to  shape  itself  to  her  feeling  and  mode  of 
thought  as  one  great  and  perpetual  "  trial ;  " 
and  upon  the  whole  she  seemed  generally  to 
be  getting  the  worst  of  it. 

Kate  and  Margaret  were  shown  into  a  long, 
low  drawing-room,  looking  from  its  tlu-ee 
windows  into   the  extremely  pretty  garden  \ 

behind  the  house.  There  was  an  old-fash- 
ioned drab-colored  Brussels  carpet  on  the 
floor,  an  old-fashioned  drab-colored  paper  on 
the  walls,  and  old-fashioned  drab  moreen 
curtains  bound  with  black  velvet  hung  on 
each  side  of  three  windows.  Nevertheless, 
it  was,  in  right  of  the  outlook  into  the  gar- 
den and  up  the  exquisitely-kept  turf  of  the 
steep  bank  that  ran  up  to  a  considerable 
height  against  the  fragment  of  gray  old  city 
wall,  and  was  topped  by  a  terrace- walk  run- 
ning under  the  rose-clothed  southern  face  of 
it, — in  right,  I  say,  of  these  advantages. 
Lady  Sempronia's  drawing-room  was  a  pretty 
and  pleasant  room  ;  though  Kate  used  to  say 
that  it  always  used  to  make  her  feel  afraid 
of  speaking  above  her  breath,  when  she  came 
into  it.  The  world,  she  said,  seemed  always 
asleep  there. 

There  was  nobody  in  the  room  when  the 
two  girls  entered  it,  and  the  servant  went  to 
call  his  mistress. 

"  Oh,  que  c'cst  triste!''^  exclaimed  Marga- 
ret, as  she  looked  around.  "  I  should  die  if 
I  were  made  to  inhabit  such  a  room,  Cest 
(Tune  tristesse  ecrasante  !  " 

"And  I  am  afraid  poor  Aunt  Sempronia 
does  not  live  a  very  gay  life  in  it.  Yet  I  do 
not  dislike  the  room.  Look  at  the  garden  ! 
Can  anything  be  conceived  more  peacefully 
lovely  !  "  said  Kate. 

"  C^est  a  mourir  iVennui .'  "  said  ^Margaret. 
The  two  girls  were  standing  looking  out  of 
the  window  with  their  backs  to  the  door,  as  I 


42 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


Margaret  spoke,  and  had  not  heard  the  tainly,"  said  !RIargaret,  who,  remembering 
noiseless  step  of  Lady  Sempronia  as  she  that  her  sister  was  present,  though  Lady 
crossed  the  room  toward  them.  It  was  evi- ,  Sempronia  seemed  to  have  forgotten  it,  coald 
dent  that  she  must  have  heard  Margaret's  !  not  respond  as  completely  to  her  aunt's  invi- 
criticism  on  her  dwelling ;  and  the  utterer   tation  to  bemoan  herself  as  she  would  have 


of  it  felt  no  little  embarrassment  at  the  con- 
sciousness that  such  must  have  been  the  case. 
But,  as  it  seemed,  she  could  not  have  pre- 
sented herself  to  her  aunt  in  a  manner  more 
congenial  to  that  lady's  feelings. 


been  happy  to  do  under  other  circumstances. 
"You  will  find,  my  dear,  as  life  goes  on, 
that  it  is  made  up  of  a  series  of  trials.  Those 
who  expect  to  find  it  otherwise,"  continued 
the  melancholy  lady,  with  a  mild  glance  of 


Margaret  blushed  deeply,  as  she  performed  reproach  at  Kate's  face,  which  was  most  un- 
to Lady  Sempronia  one  of  her  usual  elaborate  |  sympathetically  beaming  with  health  and 
courtesies,  while  Kate  spoke  a  few  words  \  brightness  and  happiness, — "  those  who  ex- 


of  introduction.  But  her  aunt,  taking  her 
kindly  by  the  hand,  said, — 

"  Come  and  sit  by  me  on  this  sofa,  my  love. 
It  is  a  pleasure  to  find  at  least  one  member  of 
the  family,  who  can  sympathize  with  some, 
at  all  events,  of  the  trials  I  am  called  on  to 
struggle  against.  It  is  as  you  say,  Jlarga- 
ret  ;  c'cst  a  mourir  d'ennui !  But,  unfortu- 
nately, ennui  kills  slowly.  It  has  done  its 
work  on  me  in  the  course  of  years,  my  dear. 
And  yet  Kate  bids  me  be  cheerful, — cheerful 
in  such  an  atmosphere  as  this  !  ' ' 

Lady  Sempronia  certainly  did  look  like 
one  on  whom  ennui,  or  some  such  form  of 
mental  atrophy,  had,  as  she  said,  done  its 
work.  Miss  Immy  called  it  looking ' '  washed 
out ;  "  and  perhaps  that  phrase  may  give  as 
good  an  idea  of  Lady  Sempronia's  appear- 
ance as  her  own  more  refined  one.  Hers  was 
a  tall  and  remarkably  slender  figure,  with  a 
long  face,  the  thinness  of  which  was  made 
yet  thinner  in  appearance  by  two  long,  cork- 
screw curls  of  very  dull,  unshining-looking 
light-brown  liair  hanging  on  either  side  of  it. 
She  had  a  high-bridged  Roman  nose,  and  a 
tall,  narrow  forehead,  adorned  by  a  "  front," 
which  life-weariness  had  caused  to  be  so  un- 
artistically  put  on,  that  it  hardly  made  any 
pretence  of  being  other  than  it  was. 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  excess  of 
quietude  is  often  very  trying  to  the  spirits," 
replied  Margaret,  sympathizingly. 

"Trying!"  exclaimed  Lady  Sempronia; 
"  indeed,  you  may  say  so  !  Few  persons  in 
my  station  of  life  have  had  so  many  trials  as 
I  have,  my  dear  niece.  But  you,  too,  have 
had  your  trials.  It  must  have  been  a  very 
severe  one  to  be  called  on  to  relinquish  Paris 
to  come  and  live  in  this  remote  solitude, — a 
very  great  trial.  Do  you  feel  the  change 
very  painfully?  " 

"The  change  is  a  very  great  one,  cer- 


pect  to  find  it  otherwise  are  but  laying  up 
for  themselves  a  harvest  of  delusions  and  dis- 
appointments. There  is  to  me  no  more  mel- 
ancholy sight  than  that  of  inexperienced 
youth,  rushing  forward,  as  it  were,  to  meet 
the  inevitable  trials  that  await  it,  in  Utter 
unconsciousness  of  its  fate." 

"Why,  that  is. just  what  the  poet  says, 
aunt !  "  cried  Kate,  with  a  smile  entirely  un- 
dimmed  by  any  terror  at  the  tremendous  pros- 
pect before  her. 

"  '  Alas  !  unconscious  of  their  doom 
The  little  victims  play. 
No  sense  have  they  of  ills  to  come  ; 
No  care  beyond  to-day.'  " 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  are  acquainted 
with  the  lines,  my  dear.  They  are  very,  very 
sad  ones.  You  remember  bow  the  poet  goes 
on: — 

"  '  Yet  see,  how  all  around  them  wait 
The  ministers  of  human  fate, 
And  black  Misfortune's  baleful  train  ! ' 

The  following  stanzas  are  very  instructive. 
And  the  whole  poem — it  is  very  short,  too 
short,  indeed — would  be  exceedingly  advan- 
tageous reading  for  a  young  person,  every 
night  before  going  to  bed." 

"The  last  lines,"  continued  Kate,  "are 
particularly  impressive. 

"  '  Since  sorrow  never  comes  too  late. 
And  happiness  too  quickly  flies, 
.  .  .  where  ignorance  is  bliss, 
'Tis  folly  to  be  wise  ! '  " 

"Words  uttered  in  the  bitter  irony  of  a 
broken  heart,"  said  Lady  Sempronia,  with  a 
profound  sigh  ;  "  and  which  it  would  be  folly 
indeed  to  take  an  serieux !  Tell  me,  my 
dear,"  she  added,  turning  to  Margaret,  "  do 
you  not  feel  the  change  from  the  scenes  in 
which  you  passed  your  childhood,  to  the 
comparative  solitude  of  your  present  home, 
very  trying  to  your  spirits  !  '' 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"I  was  certainly  very  happy  in  Paris  ;  and 
Madame  de  Renneville  and  the  baron  were 
very  kind  to  me,"  said  Margaret,  while  a 
tear  trembled  in  her  fine  eyes,  gathered  there 
not  by  the  words  which  had  been  spoken,  nor 
by  any  ideas  called  to  her  mind  by  them,  so 
much  as  liy  the  deep  tragic  tones  and  pro- 
foundly dispirited  manner  of  her  aunt.  It 
was  a  tribute  to  Lady  Sempronia's  sorrows 
and  to  her  eloquence,  to  which  that  lady 
was  keenly  sensible  ;  and  she  already  began 
to  feel  that  her  newly-discovered  niece  was 
a  highly  cultivated  and  charming  girl,  on 
whom  she  might  count  for  sympathy  with 
her  in  her  many  sorrows. 

Lady  Sempronia  was  very  fond  of  talking 
of  these  :  indeed,  she  rarely  sjwke  much  on 
any  other  subject.  But  it  was  remarkable 
that  she  never  spoke  of  the  one  great  sorrow, 
which  really  was  such  as  to  justify  her  in 
considering  her  entire  life  to  have  been  over- 
shadowed by  it.  She  never  alluded  to  her 
lost  son.  That  grief  was  too  real,  too  sacred 
for  idle  talk.  But  of  her  poverty,  her  bodily 
ailments,  the  misbehavior  of  the  canon  in 
various  ways,  his  absence  of  mind,  his  ex- 
travagance, his  antiquarian  tastes,  of  the 
troubles  arising  from  the  turpitude  of  all 
sorts  of  servants,  she  would  discourse  at 
any  length. 

"  And  now,  my  dear,"  she  said,  after  some 
further  indulgence  in  her  usual  slipshod 
talk  on  the  miseries  of  the  world  in  gen- 
eral, and  of  her  own  lot  in  it  in  particular, 
"  now  I  suppose  you  are  anxious  to  make 
acquaintance  with  your  uncle,  the  canon. 
The  meeting  with  a  hitherto  unknown  rela- 
tive may,  in  some  exceptional  cases,  be  the 
finding  of  a  congenial  and  sympathetic 
heart.  But  it  is  far  more  likely  to  prove  a 
severe  trial."  Margaret  could  not  help  be- 
ing struck,  as  her  aunt  spoke,  with  the  just- 
ness of  her  observation  :  but  she  was  not 
prepared  for  the  candor  of  what  was  about 
to  follow. 

"  It  would  not  be  right,"  continued  the 
Lady  Sempronia,  "  if  I  were  to  omit  to  warn 
you  that  the  meeting  with  your  uncle  is 
likely  to  prove  a  severe  trial." 

"Dear  aunt,"  expostulated  Kate,  "I  am 
sure  Margaret  will  love  Uncle  Theophilus  as 
much  as  we  all  do,  when  she  gets  to  know 
him . ' ' 

"  My  dear  !  "  said  Lady  Sempronia,  turn- 
ing on  her  with  some  Little  sharpness,  "  it  is 


43 

my  practice  always,  both  for  myself  and  for 
those  who  are  dear  to  me,  to  prepare  against 
disappointments.  It  is  long  since  I  have 
been  disappointed  in  anything,  and  a  certain 
amount  of  peace  of  mind  may  be  thus  at- 
tained. With  regard  to  your  uncle,  my  dear 
Margaret,  we  who  do  know  him,  as  your 
sister  says,  are  perfectly  well  aware  of  the 
many  great  and  good  qualities  which  he  pos- 
sesses ;  but  it  is  nevertheless  true,  that  your 
first  introduction  to  him  may  prove  a  trial. 
Dr.  Lindisfarn  is  a  very  learned  man, — a  man 
of  immense  erudition  !  Nevertheless,  when 
he  comes  in  to  dinner  with  his  surplice  on, 
under  the  impression  that  he  is  entering  the 
choir  for  morning  service,  it  is  a  trial ;  I  con- 
fess that  to  me  it  is  a  trial.  Your  uncle  has 
acquired  the  high  esteem  of  the  whole  coun- 
ty, and  has  received  the  public  thanks  of  the 
Chapter  for  his  contributions  in  time,  in 
knowledge,  and  in  money,  to  the  repair  of 
the  ceiling  of  the  cathedral  transept.  But 
when  I  reflect  that  a  small  portion  of  the 
money  so  spent  would  have  supplied — among 
many  other  matters — the  new  carpet,  which 
you  see,  my  dear,  is  so  sadly  needed  for  the 
drawing-room,  it  is,  I  do  not  deny  it,  a  severe 
trial.  When  I  speak  to  the  doctor  upon  any 
subject  of  domestic  interest,  and  he  answers 
me  as  if  I  were  talking  of  things  or  people 
of  five  hundred  years  or  more  ago,  I  do  own 
that  it  is  a  very  painful  trial.  In  short,  my 
dear,  it  were  weak  to  conceal  from  you  that 
in  all  connected  with  Dr.  Lindisfarn  [a  very 
deep  and  prolonged  sigh  inserted  here]  there 
are  many  and  very  grievous  trials.  And  this 
being  the  case,  it  was,  I  think,  my  duty  to 
warn  you  that  you  would  find  it  to  he  the 
case.  The  duty  of  doing  so  has  been  a  trial 
to  me  ;  but  I  would  not  shrink  from  it." 

"  It  has  been  very  kind  of  you,  aunt ;  and 
I  assure  you  that  I  am  not  insensible  to  it," 
murmured  Margaret. 

"  I  suppose  Uncle  Theophilus  has  his  trials 
too,  for  that  matter,"  said  Kate. 

"  I  have  no  reason  to  think  Dr.  Lindisflirn 
exempted  from  the  common  lot  of  human- 
ity," returned  Lady  Sempronia,  with  a  cer- 
tain degree  of  acidity  in  her  manner,  yet  in 
a  tone  of  extreme  meekness,  such  as  might 
be  supposed  the  result  of  long-suflering. 
"Shall  we  go  to  the  study?"  she  added  : 
"  Dr.  Lindisfarn  does  not  like  to  be  called 
into  the  drawing-room." 

So  the  three  ladies  proceeded  together  to 


44 

the  canon's  study.  To  do  this  they  were 
obliged  to  return  from  the  drawing-room  into 
the  hall ;  for,  though  the  study  adjoined  the 
latter,  there  was  no  door  of  communication 
between  them.  It  was  a  very  long  room,  oc- 
cupying the  entire  depth  of  the  house,  and 
lighted  by  one  large  bow-window  looking 
into  the  garden,  and  by  a  small  window  at 
the  opposite  end  of  it  looking  into  the  Close. 
The  door  opening  into  the  hall  was  on  the 
left  hand  of  one  looking  toward  the  garden, 
and  was  near  the  Close  end  of  the  room,  so 
that  it  was  but  a  step  from  the  hall-door  to 
that  of  the  study.  The  fireplace  was  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  room,  not  in  the  middle 
of  the  wall,  but  much  nearer  the  garden  end  ; 
and  a  double  bookshelf,  or  rather  two  book- 
shelves back  to  back,  stood  out  about  two- 
thirds  of  the  space  aci^oss  the  room,  so  as  to 
partially  divide  it  into  two  rooms,  of  which 
that  toward  the  garden  was  nearly  twice  as 
large  as  the  other.  Those  dividing  shelves 
abutted  against  the  wall  opposite  the  door, 
so  that  a  person  entering  could  see  the  entire 
length  of  the  room  ;  but  one  sitting  near  the 
fire  could  not  see  the  door,  nor  be  seen  from 
it.  The  fireplace  was  merely  an  open  hearth, 
prepared  for  burning  wood,  and  furnished 
with  a  pair  of  antique-shaped  andirons  ;  for 
the  canon  chose  to  burn  exclusively  wood  in 
his  study,  despite  the  discontent  and  remon- 
strances of  Lady  Sempronia,  who  declared 
that  the  room  could  be  well  warmed  with 
coal  at  very  much  less  cost  than  it  was  half 
warmed  with  wood.  The  question  of  the 
comparative  expense  had  formed  the  subject 
of  many  a  long  dispute  between  them,  till 
the  doctor,  who,  in  defence  of  his  own  posi- 
tion, had  drawn  up  an  exceedingly  learned 
and  exhaustive  memoir  on  the  progressive 
difference  between  the  cost  of  wood  and  coals 
from  the  earliest  use  of  the  latter  fuel,  had 
spoken  on  one  occasion  of  the  expediency  of 
giving  his  monograph  to  the  public,  as  one 
of  the  publications  of  the  Sillshire  Society. 
From  that  time  forth  the  Lady  Sempronia, 
who  knew  too  well  that  the  cost  of  printing 
the  monograph  would  more  than  supply  the 
study  fire  with  wood  to  the  end  of  the  doc- 
tor's days,  had  been  silent  on  the  subject. 

The  exceeding  length  of  the  room  made  the 
lowness  of  the  ceiling,  which  the  study  shared 
with  all  the  other  rooms  on  the  ground  floor, 
seem  still  lower  ;  and  the  quantity  of  hetero- 
geneous articles  with  which  the  space  was  en- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


cumbered  increased  the  lumber-room  like  ap- 
pearance which  on  first  entering  impi-essed 
itself  on  a  visitor's  mind. 

Immediately  in  front  of  the  door,  by  the 
side  of  the  window  looking  into  the  Close, 
there  was  a  lay  figure,  on  the  shoulders  of 
which  were  the  doctor's  surplice,  hood,  and 
scarf,  and  on  its  head  his  trencher  cap.  This 
somewhat  startling  ecclesiastical  presentation 
was  a  device  of  the  doctor's  own  invention, 
the  object  of  which  was  to  prevent  him,  if 
possible,  from  forgetting  to  take  off"  the  above- 
mentioned  canonicals  when  he  returned  from 
morning  and  evening  service  in  the  choir. 
Again  and  again  it  had  occurred  to  him  to 
proceed  directly  to  whatever  occupation  in 
his  study  was  uppermost  in  his  mind — and 
had  been  so,  it  may  be  feared,  during  the 
hour  spent  in  the  choir — without  divesting 
himself  of  any  of  these  garments.  And  as 
the  occupations  were  often  of  a  nature  in- 
volving contact  with  dusty  tomes  and  dustier 
relics  of  antiquity, — and,  as  even  when  this 
was  not  the  case,  the  doctor,  finding  the  folds 
of  his  surplice  under  his  hand  very  convenient 
for  the  purpose,  was  apt  to  wipe  either  his 
pen  or  the  dust  with  them,  as  the  case  might 
require, — considerable  inconvenience  arose 
from  the  neglect.  At  length  it  occurred  to 
him  that  if  he  had,  standing  immediately 
before  his  eyes,  as  he  ent(sed  his  room,  such 
a  representative  of  himself,  as  it  were,  which 
he  would  be  always  accustomed  to  see  at  all 
other  times  of  the  day  dressed  in  full  canoni- 
cals, and  which,  when  thus  presenting  itself 
to  him  naked,  would  seem  to  ask  for  its  usual 
clothing,  he  could  not  fail  to  be  reminded  of 
what  he  had  first  +o  do,  before  returning'to 
his  studies.  And  the  scheme  had  answered 
well,  except  as  regarded  the  bands  ;  and  that 
small  article  of  church  costume  mattered 
less.  The  only  evil  arising  from  forgetful- 
ness  in  this  particular,  was,  that  it  some- 
times happened  that  the  doctor  came  to  his 
dinner-table  with  two  or  even  three  pairs  of 
bands  around  his  neck,  one  falling  over  his 
coat  collar  behind,  another  under  one  of  his 
ears,  and  a  third  in  its  proper  position  ;  for 
they  would  wriggle  round  his  neck,  and  as 
it  never  occurred  to  him  to  imagine  that  any 
such  phenomenon  could  have  taken  place, 
when  on  going  to  church  he  found  no  bands 
in  front,  he  would  put  on  a  pair  without  any 
inquiry  respecting  the  disappearance  of  their 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 

The  doctor  always  wore  gold  spectacles ;    float  before  the  author 


45 


and  as  his  habits  made  it  absolutely  necessary 
for  him  to  possess  three  or  four  pairs  of  these, 
a  similarly  monstrous  hyper-dcvelopment 
would  occur  in  respect  to  them,  as  in  the 
matter  of  the  bands  ;  for,  when  one  pair  liad 
by  accident,  or  by  the  action  of  his  hand 
when  raised  to  his  brow  in  thought,  been 
pushed  up  out  of  their  proper  place  on  to  his 
forehead,  he  never  thought  of  looking,  or 
rather  feeling  for  them  tliere,  but  forthwith 
put  on  a  second  pair.  Lady  Sempronia  de- 
clared that  she  had  seen  her  husband  with 
one  pair  on  the  top  of  his  bald  head,  an- 
other across  his  forehead,  and  a  third  in  their 
proper  position,  and  protested  that  the  mel- 
ancholy and  monstrous  sight  had  been  a  par- 
ticularly severe  trial  to  her. 

The  study  was,  like  that  of  other  gentle- 
men of  similar  tastes,  crammed  full  of  all 
sorts  of  queer  odds  and  ends,  which  were  re- 
garded with  much  aversion  by  the  Lady  Sem- 
pronia. But  there  was  one  peculiar  feature 
in  the  contents  of  the  room  which  stirred  up 
her  bile,  and  grieved  her  heart  to  a  much 
greater  degree.  This  was  the  long  rows  of 
the  paper-bound  volumes  of  the  different  me- 
moirs which  her  lord  and  master  had  con- 
tributed to  the  Silverton  Archaeological  Club. 
It  must  be  admitted,  unhappily,  that  the 
rows  were  very  long.  By  the  help  of  the 
cross-shelves,  which  have  been  mentioned  as 
standing  out  across  the  room,  the  study  af- 
forded accommodation  for  a  very  consider- 
able number  of  books.     But  alas  !  the  inner 


mind,  to  the  un- 
speakable horror  of  Lady  Sempronia.  It  had 
been  tlie  most  expensive  of  all  the  doctor's 
publications,  for  colored  lithograph  illustra- 
tions had  been  found  absolutely  necessary. 
And  the  first  hint  that  the  learned  world 
would  probably  expect  a  second  edition  of 
that  highly  appreciated  v/ork  had  been  one 
of  Lady  Sempronia's  severest  trials.  The  rest 
of  the  hated  volumes,  of  which  in  her  unfore- 
seeing  ignorance  she  had  watched  the  gradual 
disappearance  with  satisfaction.-suddenly  be- 
came valuable  in  her  eyes  ;  and  she  adopted 
every  means  of  preserving  and  husbandinni- 
the  precious  remainder  af  them.  She  had 
never  before  condescended  to  know  even  the 
titles  of  any  of  the  canon's  publications.  But 
now,  whenever  there  was  any  probability 
that  the  doctor  would  oflcr  any  of  his  works 
to  a  visitor.  Lady  Sempronia  would  interpose 
with,  "  Not  the  Coifer-work  Ceilings,  Dr. 
Lindisfarn.  You  have  only  one  copy  left !  " 
And  in  fact  but  one  copy  remained  on  the* 
study  shelves  ;  for  on  the  first  appearance 
of  the  danger,  the  lady  had  gradually  carried 
off  to  her  secret  bower  two  or  three  copies 
at  a  time,  all  the  remainder  of  the  edition, 
to  be  produced,  if  need  were,  one  at  a  time, 
and  always  under  protest,  so  as  to  stave  off 
the  evil  day  when  the  doctor  should  be  able 
to  declare  that  the  work  was  absolutely  out 
of  print.  ^ 

The  canon,  though  shorter  and  smaller 
than  his  brother,  had  been  a  well-looking 
man  in  his  day.  He  had  a  high,  delicately 
side  of  these  shelves,  or  that  looking  toward  I  formed  nose,  a  particularly  well-cut  and 
the  garden  window,  was  almost  entirely  oc-  finely-shaped  mouth,  and  a  classical  outline 
cupied  by  those  costly  and  learned  publica- '  of  features  generally.  Though  very  bald, 
tions.  It  is  true  that  the  mass  of  them  di-  ]  and  limping  a  little  in  his  gait,  in  consequence 
minished  gradually  ;  but  the  process  was  a  !  of  a  fall  from  a  ladder  in  the  cathedral,  when 
very  slow  one.  And  the  long  rows  of  identi-  j  he  had  been  engaged  in  directing  and  super- 
cally  similar  volumes  were  a  sore  offence  to  :  intending  some  restorations  of  his  beloved 
poor  Lady  Sempronia's  eyes.  The  doctor  did  ;  church,  he  was  still  a  very  distinguished-look- 
his  best  to  get  rid  of  them ;  for  no  visitor,  '  ing  man.  lie  always  wore  a  large  quantity 
who  could  by  any  possibility  be  supposed  to  '  of  snow-white  but  perfectly  limp  and  un- 
take  any  interest  in  such  matters,  left  the  '  starched  muslin,  wound  round  and  round  his 
house  without  a  presentation  copy  of  one  or  throat,  and  a  large  pi'ominent  shirt-frill  pro- 
more  of  them.  But  at  length  it  came  to  pass  1  truding  between  the  sides  of  his  black  waist- 
that  the  satisfactory  disappearance  of  the  coat.  A  black  body-coat,  very  wide  in  the 
volumes  led  to  an  alarmingly  unsatisfactory  skirt,  black  breeches,  black  silk  stockino-s, 
result.  The  stock  in  hand  of  the  canon's  ^  somewhat  negligently  drawn  over  very  hand- 
"  Memoir  on  Panelled  Ceilings  in  Coffer-work  :  some  legs,  gold  knee  and  shoe  buckles,  which 
as  Exemplified  in  Buildings  of  the  Norman  Lady  Sempronia  in  vain  strove  to  induce  him 
and  Ante-Norman  Period,"  began  to  run  so  to  discard  in  favor  of  the  more  modern  fashion 
low,  that  visions  of  a  second  edition  began  to   of  shoe-ties,  completed  his  costume. 


46 

Margaret  was  a  little^  startled  on  entering 
the  study  to  see  a  figure  in  full  canonicals 
and  trencher  cap  motionless  in  front  of  her, 
and  gave  a  perceptible  little  jump. 

"  No,  dear,"  said  Kate,"  that  is  not  Uncle 
Theophilus.  That  is  only  Canon  Lindisfarn. 
May  we  come  in,  uncle?"  she  continued; 
"  T  know  you  are  in  your  old  corner  behind 
the  books  there.  Aunt  and  I  have  brought 
Margaret  to  see  you." 

"  Come  in,  Kate,  come  in  !  "  said  a  voice 
from  behind -the  screen  of  books.  "  You  are 
always  welcome,  my  dear.  But  who  is  Mar- 
garet you  speak  of?  " 

"  Why  your  niece,  to  be  sure,"  cried  Kate, 
leading  the  way  round  the  screen,  while  Lady 
Sem'pronia  whispered  to  Margaret,  as  they 
followed, — 

"  I  told  you  it  would  be  a  trial,  my  dear." 

"  Don't  you  remember  that  you  have  a 
niece  just  returned  from  Paris?"  continued 
Kate. 

"  To  be  sure  I  do  !  to  be  sure  I  do — now 
you  mention  it.  "Welcome  to  England,  and 
welcome  to  Silverton,  and  welcome  to  Silver- 
ton  Close,  my  dear  !  What  a  happiness  it 
must  be  to  you  to  find  yourself  at  home  once 
again  !  " 

"  It  is  a  great  pleasure,  sir,  to  become  per- 
sonally acquainted  with  relatives,  whom  I 
have  already  learnt  to  venerate,"  said  Mar- 
garet,      s 

"I  can't  think,"  said  the  canon,  after 
looking  at  Margaret  in  an  Earnest  and  yet 
wool-gathering  sort  of  manner, — "  I  can't 
think  for  the  life  of  me,  who  it  is  she  reminds 
me  of.  There  is  some  face  in  my  memory 
that  hers  seems  to  recall  to  me." 

"  They  say  we  Lindisfiirns  are  all  more  or 
less  alike,"  interposed  Kate,  fearing  whither 
her  uncle's  remembrances  might  be  leading 
him;  "  and  all  the  people  up  at  the  Chase 
declare  that  Margaret  and  I  are  as  much  alike 
as  two  peas." 

"  Then  I  am  sure  they  do  you  great  injus- 
tice, sister,"  said  Margaret,  eagei-ly.  "  How 
ean  they  compare  your  fresh-colored  face  to 
my  poor  white  cheeks  ?  I  do  not  know  how 
I  came  by  them.  It  is  just  as  if  they  had 
coquettishly  fashioned  themselves  to  please 
the  people  they  grew  among.  For  the  Pa- 
risians admire  white  faces  and  not  red  ones. 
But  I  am  sure  I  envy  Kate's  roses." 

"  There  are  white  roses  and  red  roses,"  said 
the  canon,  "  and  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  that 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


anybody  ever  yet  decided  that  one  was  more 
beautiful  than  the  other." 

"  Talking  of  roses,  by  the  by,"  said  Kate, 
who  did  not  like  the  turn  the  conversation 
was  taking,  "  what  about  the  cuttings  you 
were  to  prepare  for  me,  aunt?  Suppose  you 
and  I  go  and  look  after  them  in  the  garden, 
and  leave  my  uncle  and  Margaret  to  complete 
their  acquaintance." 

Kate  was  desperately  afraid  that  the  canon's 
half-recalled  memories,  which  she  had  little 
doubt  had  been  roused  by  a  likeness  between 
her  sister  and  Julian,  would  stumble  on,  till 
they  blundered  on  something  which  might 
throw  Lady  Sempronia  into  a  fit  of  hysterics, 
and  send  her  to  bed  for  a  week  ;  and  was 
anxious,  therefore,  to  get  her  out  of  the  dan- 
ger. And  her  aunt,  who  never  felt  particu- 
larly comfortable  or  happy  in  the  study, 
yielded  at  once  to  Kate's  lead,  merely  saying 
to  the  doctor,  as  she  left  the  room, — 

"  Not  a  copy  of  the  Coffer-work  Ceilings, 
Dr.  Lindisfarn;  remember  you  have  but  one 
copy  left !  ' ' 

"  Lady  Sen^pronia  is  reminding  me,"  said 
the  canon,  in  reply  to  a  look  of  inquiry  from 
JNIargaret,  when  they  were  left  alone  together, 
"  that  I  must  not  offer  you  a  copy  of  one  of 
my  little  works,  which  has  been  so  successful 
with  the  public  that  it  is  nearly  exhausted. 
But  the  caution  can  hardly  be  needed  ;  for 
it  can  scarcely  be  expected  that  a  young  lady 
should  interest  herself  in  matters  of  antiqua- 
rian research." 

"  Oh  !  there  you  are  wrong,  uncle,"  cried 
Margaret,  who  always  was  a  far  glibber  talker 
in  a  tete-a-tete,  be  it  with  whom  it  might,  than 
under  any  other  circumstances.  "  And  spe- 
cially you  do  me  wrong  ;  for  I  take  particular 
interest  in  all  such  matters.  Taime  la  rococo 
a  la  folic  !  "  she  added,  clasping  her  admira- 
bly gloved  hands  together,  bending  her  grace- 
ful figure  a  little  forward,  and  throwing  an 
expression  of  intense  enthusiasm  into  her 
beautiful  eyes. 

The  doctor,  though  a  competent  reader  of 
French,  was  by  no  means  a  sufficiently  in- 
structed student  of  French  things  and  phrases 
to  be  aware  of  the  amount  of  distance  lying  be- 
tween a  Parisian  lady's  love  for  "  rococo,''^ 
and  a  taste  for  antiquarian  research.  But  he 
knew  very  well,  that  he  had  never  seen  any- 
thing more  lovely  tjjan  his  niece  looked  as  she 
made  her  profession  of  admiration  for  his  fa- 
vorite studies. 


LINDISFARN 

"I  really  think,"  he  said,  in  the  zeal  of 
his  delight  at  the  prospect  of  such  a  disciple, 
"  that  the  last  copy  of  my  dissertation  on 
Coffer-work  Ceilings  could  find  no  more  wor- 
thy destination  than  the  shelf  which  holds 
your  own  special  books,  my  dear.  Tiic  book 
is  now  a  rare  one  ;  and  will,  I  doubt  not, 
be  there  in  good  company." 

"  Not  for  the  world,  uncle,  not  for  the 
world  !  I  shall  come  here  and  ask  you  some 
day  to  lend  me  your  own  copy  for  a  quiet 
hour  in  the  garden.  But  I  would  not  for  any 
consideration  carry  off  a  copy  which  you  will 
surely  need  to  give  to  some  great  man  of 
learning.  Besides,  what  would  Lady  Sem- 
pronia  say?  But  there  was  a  subject  about 
which  1  was  very  anxious  to  ask  you  ;  for  I 
can  get  no  information  up  at  the  Chase.  Is 
it  not  true  that  the  mansion  called  the  Friary 
at  Weston  was  once  a  monastery  ?  I  should  so 
like  to  know  all  the  history  of  it !  " 

"  And  I  should  so  like  to  tell  you,"  cried 
the  canon,  in  the  greatest  glee.  "  You  are 
quite  right,  my  dear  girl.  It  is  one  of  the 
most  interesting  places  in  the  county !  In- 
deed, I  have  thought  for  some  time  past  of 
making  it  the  subject  of  a  monograph." 

Margaret  had  not  the  remotest  conception 
of  the  meaning  of  a  "  monograph  ;  "  nor  was 
she  aware  how  safely  she  might  have  simply 
avowed  her  unacquaintance  with  the  word, 
without  pleading  guilty  to  any  very  disgrace- 
ful ignorance ;  but  she  thought  she  might 
say, — 

"Oh,  that  would  be  delightful,  uncle! 
But  what  I  should  like  best  of  all,  if  it  were 
possible,  would  be  tovisit  the  spotwith  you, — 
you  and  I  together,  you  know,  so  that  you 
might  explain  everything  to  one." 

"And  why  not?  Nothing  more  easy  !  I 
have  not  yet  made  acquaintance,  by  the  by, 
with  the  new  owners  of  the  place." 

"  Oh,  that  you  will  do  to-morrow,  uncle. 
Mr.  and  Miss  Merriton  are  to  dine  with  us. 
You  will  meet  them,  you  know.  And  then  I 
.shall  very  soon  afterward  come  to  claim  your 
promise  of  a  day  at  the  Friary." 

"  And  I  shall  be  delighted  to  keep  it.  Per- 
haps if  I  decide  on  writing  on  the  subject, 
you  might  assist  me  with  your  pencil.  Do 
you  draw,  my  dear?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  learned.  I  can  draw  a  little. 
I  should  be  so  glad  to  be  permitted  to  be  of 
use.  To  study,  and  be  directed  by  you, 
uncle,  would  be  so  delightful." 


CHASE.  47 

And  what  could  give  me  greater  pleasure 
than  to  direct  your  studies  ?  We  will  attack 
the  Friary  together.  It  really  ought  to  be 
illustrated,  the  more  so  that  I  am  not  una- 
ware that  there  are  sciolists  in  this  very  city 
of  Silver  ton,  who  hold  some  most  absurd 
notions  respecting  certain  portions  of  the 
ancient  buildings.  Yes,  yes,  my  dear,  with 
my  pen  and  your  pencil,  we  will  attack 
the  Friary  together.  To  think  of  your  hav- 
ing already  cast  your  eye  on  the  most  inter- 
esting bit  of  antiquity  in  the  county,  you 
puss !  " 

And  then  Lady  Sempronia  and  Kate  came 
and  tapped  at  the  window  from  the  garden  ; 
and  the  former  told  Margaret  to  come  and 
have  some  luncheon  in  the  parlor.  And  the 
doctor  dismissed  his  newly  found  niece  with 
the  profound  conviction  that  she  was  not  only 
the  flower  of  the  family,  but  tlie  most  charm- 
ing, the  most  highly  gifted,  and  by  flir  the 
most  intelligent  girl  it  had  ever  been  his  lot  to 
meet  with. 

"  Well,  how  did  you  and  uncle  get  on  to- 
gether?" asked  Kate.  "Did  you  make 
friends  !  " 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Margaret ;  "  as  far  as  a 
learned  man  could  with  a  very  ignorant  young 
girl.     He  was  very  kind  to  me." 

"Did  he  offer  to  give  you  any  of  his 
books?  "  asked  Lady  Sempronia,  well  aware 
of  the  channel  by  which  the  doctor's  kindness 
was  wont  to  manifest  itself. 

"  Yes,  aunt.  He  was  generous  enough  to 
offer  me  the  last  copy  of  his  memoir  on  Ceil- 
ing-work Coffers.  But  of  course,  after  what 
you  had  said,  I  would  not  let  him  do  any- 
thing of  the  kind.  What  a  pity  it  is  that 
such  an  excellent  man  as  my  dear  uncle 
should  fail  to  recognize  the  good  sense  of  ab- 
staining from  wasting  his  money  on  such 
things  !  " 

And  then  the  carriage  came  to  the  door 
with  Miss  Immy,  precisely  at  tliree  o'clock  ; 
and  that  very  punctual  lady  sent  in  a  mes- 
sage to  Lady  Sempronia,  regretting  that  the 
immense  amount  of  business  she  had  had  to 
transact  in  Silverton  had  made  it  impossible 
for  her  to  leave  herself  time  enough  to  alight 
— setting  forth  the  absolute  necessity  of  being 
at  the  Chase  and  dressed  for  dinner  in  time, 
not  to  keep  the  squire  waiting  beyond  the 
half-hour  of  grace  allowed  them,  and  begging 
the  young  ladies  to  come  out  without  delay. 

So  then  there  was  a  kissing  bout,  and  Lady 


48 


Sempronia  turned  to  kiss  Margaret  a  second 
time,  as  she  Avas  leaving  the  room,  while 
Kate  was  already  hurrying  across  the  hall  to 
the  carriage,  and  as  she  pressed  her  hand, 
trusted  that  tliey  should  see  much  of  each  other. 
"  Perhaps  the  house  in  the  Close,  and  such 
little  distractions  as  Silverton  could  offer, — 
dull  enough  though  they  generally  were,  God 
knew, — might  sometimes  be  a  change  from 
the  profound  seclusion  arid  monotony  of  the 


And,  "J.A,  ma  tante!  Comme  vous  etes 
bonne  pour  mot,  vous  I  " 

And  so  upon  the  whole  (putting  out  of 
the  question,  of  course,  the  tender  affection 
of  her  father  and  sister),  Margaret's  debut 
at  the  house  in  the  Close  had  been  a  more 
successful  one  than  at  the  Chase, 


CHAPTER  IX. 
THE  PARTY  AT  THE  CHASE. 

Miss  Immy  considered  "a  trial  "  to  be  a 
matter  inseparably  connected  with  the  As- 
sizes, and  in  some  less  perfectly  understood 
manner  dependent  on  Quarter  Sessions.  She 
never  used  or  understood  the  word  in  any 
other  sense  (unless  as  meaning  simply  an  at- 
temjit);  and  in  her  own  private  opinion,  un- 
communicated  to  any  human  being,  she  at- 
tributed Lady  Sempronia's  constant  use  of  the 
term  to  the  shocking  and  fearful  impression 
which  had  been  made  upon  her  especially 
weak  mind  (as  Miss  Immy  considered  it)  by 
the  idea  of  the  thing,  at  the  terrible  time 
when  it  was  a  question  whether  her  own  eon 
might  not  have  to  undergo  the  ordeal  of  it. 
Miss  Immy  had  no  idea  that  she  herself  had 
any  trials,  or  she  certainly  might  have  con- 
sidered it  to  be  one,  when,  on  the  next  morn- 
ing, the  morning  of  the  party,  it  was  made 
evident  at  breakfast  that  the  squire  had  en- 
tirely forgotten  all  about  it. 

"  Would  you  be  so  kind,  Mr.  Mat,  as  to 
mention  to  Mr.  Lindisfarn,  once  every  half- 
hour  during  the  day,  that  he  has  to  enter- 
tain friends  at  dinner  to-day,  and  that  he  will 
get  no  dinner  before  six  o'clock?  " 

"  I'll  try  and  remember  it,  iMiss  Immy,  this 
time,"  said  the  squire,  laughing  ;  "  and  if  I 
don't,  it  will  be  my  punishment  to  expect  my 
dinner  at  five  and  have  to  wait  an  hour  for 
it, — a  penalty  that  might  suffice  for  a  worse 
crime!  " 

.And  then   the  squire  took  his  gun,  and 
calling  to  the  dogs  to  join  him,  was  seen  no 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 

more  till  he  met  his  guests  in  the  drawing- 
room. 

Miss  Immy  had  very  many  things  on  her 
mind,  and  was  in  a  state  of  mucli  bustle  and 
business-like  energy  all  day.  She  was  wont 
very  scornfully  to  repudiate  the  new-fangled 
heresy,  which  teaches  that  the  genteel  mis- 
tress of  a  family  should  disavow  any  labors 
of  the  kind,  and  be  supposed  to  delegate  all 
such  cares  to  subordinate  ministers — existing 
in  the  Olympus  of  the  drawing-room  in  a 
very  Epicurean  and  non-providential  condi- 
tion of  godship.  She  had  been  irritated  by 
such  affectations  on  the  part  of  others — of 
Lady  Sempronia  especially — into  a  habit  of 
making  a  special  boast  before  her  guests  of 
the  part  she  had  personally  taken  in  caring 
for  their  entertainment ;  and  it  was  observa- 
ble that  on  such  occasions,  she  always  spoke 
in  her  broadest  Sillshire  Doric. 

Kate,  on  whom  none  of  these  cares  fell, 
had  her  day  at  her  disposition,  and  to  Mar- 
garet's great  surprise  proposed  to  Mr.  Mat  a 
ride  to  Sillmouth.  There  was  a  fresh  breeze 
blowing,  and  she  should  like,  she  said,  a  gal- 
lop on  the  sands  to  see  the  big  waves  rolling 
in.  Mr.  ]\Iat  was  always  ready  for  a  ride 
with  Kate  ;  so  Birdie  was  saddled,  and  away 
they  went. 

"  Surely,  it  is  a  bad  day  to  choose  for  such 
a  ride,"  said  Margaret. 

"  Just  the  day  made  for  it !  "  cried  Kate. 
' '  I  know  our  Sillshire  coast ;  and  I  know 
what  a  tide  there  will  be  tumbling  in  with 
this  wind." 

"  Yes,  I  dare  say  ;  but  you  will  comeback 
with  your  face  as  red  as  beet-root,  and  people 
coming  here  this  evening  !  Besides,  I  wanted 
to  consult  you  about  a  hundred  things." 

"  Oh,  my  face  must  take  its  chance,  as  it 
always  does.  And  we  can  talk  as  much  as 
we  like  to-morrow.  We  shall  have  all  the 
morning  before  going  over  to  Wanstrow." 

' '  To-morrow  !  but  I  wanted  to  talk  about 
my  dress  for  this  evening,"  pouted  Marga- 
ret. 

"  Your  dress !  but  you  have  got  such  lota 
of  beautiful  things.     Any  one  will  do." 

"  Any  one  !  That's  very  easily  said.  But 
it  depends  on  so  many  things." 

It  was  very  natural  that  Kate,  who  was 
going  to  meet  only  old  friends,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Captain  EUingham  and  the  Merri- 
tons,  and  who  was  going  to  do  nothing  but 
what  she  was  perfectly  well  used  to,  should 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


49 


feel  more  at  her  ease  about  the  event  of  the 
evening  than  Margaret,  who  was  going  to 
make  her  first  appearance  at  an  English  din- 
ner-party among  a  roomful  of  strangers.  But 
the  "  so  many  tilings  "  that  Margaret  spoke 
of  included  sundry  considerations  and  spec- 
ulations of  a  kind  tliat  had  never  entered  the 
English-bred  girl's  philosophy. 

*^  But  I  sliall  be  home  in  plenty  of  time  to 
dress,"  she  said  in  answer  to  her  sister's  last 
remonstrance  ;  "and  then  we  can  settle  what 
dress  you  shall  wear." 

So  Kate  rode  off;  and  Margaret  was  left  to 
meditate  on  her  evening  "trials"  in  soli- 
tude, 1)roken  only  by  the  not  altogether  sym- 
pathizing companionship  of  Simmons. 

Had  it  entered  into  Kate's  head  to  imagine 
that  the  morning  would  appear  tedious  to 
Margaret,  she  would  not  have  left  her.  But 
it  was  so  much  the  habit  of  the  family  to  go 
each  one  his  own  way,  and  she  was  so  used 
to  being  left  alone  to  her  own  morning  occu- 
pations herself,  that  it  never  occurred  to  her 
that  it  was  necessary  to  stay  at  home  because 
her  sister  did. 

Nor  did  it  seem  that  her  coiinsel  was  really 
needed  in  the  matter  of  the  dress  ;  or  at  all 
events,  was  so  urgently  needed  as  to  be  waited 
for ;  for  when  she  returned  fromi  her  ride  she 
found  the  great  question  decided,  and  every 
article  of  JMargaret's  evening  toilet  carefully 
laid  out  on  her  bed. 

Kate  did  return  from  her  seaside  gallop 
with  her  face  not  only  red  but  rough  ;  for 
lier  ride  had  answered  her  expectations  to  the 
utmost ;  and  not  only  the  boisterous  south- 
west wind,  but  the  salt  spray  also  had  lashed 
her  cheeks.  And  it  needs  a  painful  effort  of 
impartial  truthfulness  in  a  chronicler,  who 
owns  a  very  strong  special  liking  for  Kate 
Lindisfarn,  to  admit  that  this  was  not  the 
only  respect  in  which  the  advantage  was  with 
^Margaret,  when  the  two  girls  went  down  to 
the  drawing-room.  ^largaret's  dress  was 
the  production  of  a  Parisian  artist,  and  fitted 
her  fine  shape  as  smoothly  and  somewhat 
more  tightly  than  her  skin.  Kate's,  alas  ! 
was  but  the  clwf-d'' auvre  of  IMiss  Piper,  the 
Silverton  milliner.  It  was  a  pretty  light-blue 
silk  dress,  a  shade  or  two  lighter  than  the 
wearer's  eyes,  which,  whatever  her  complex- 
ion may  have  been,  were  decidedly  none 
the  worse  for  her  ride.  They  danced  and 
laughed,  and  flashed  with  health  and  good 
humor   and  high  spirits.     Blue  was  Kate's 


favorite  color,  and  it  always  became  her  well. 
But  Miss  Piper's  handiwork  did  not  escape 
Margaret's  criticism  in  more  respects  than 
one  ;  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  young 
lady  was  a  very  competent  critic. 

"  What  will  become  of  me,  if  I  am  to  wear 
dresses  made  by  the  person  who  made  that?" 
cried  she.  "  AVhy,  it  fits  about  as  well  as  a 
sack,  Kate,  here  under  the  arms.  It  makes 
your  waist  look  thick,  or  rather  gives  you  no 
waist  at  all !  And  you  must  admit  that  it  is 
cut  odiously  round  the  shoulders." 

"  Poor  Miss  Piper  !  "  said  Kate,  laughing. 
"She  thought  that  she  surpassed  herself 
when  she  turned  out  this  dress ;  and  I  thought 
it  a  very  pretty  one  myself.  But  I  can  see 
very  well  that  it  does  not  fit  like  yours.  And 
then,  you  know,  I  have  not  such  a  slender 
waist  as  yours ;  we  proved  that  by  the  rid- 
ing-habit. And  as  for  the  shoulders,  I  sup- 
pose it  is  cut  about  as  low  as  they  are  worn 
hereabouts.  We  are  provincial  folks,  you 
know.  But  you  may  depend  upon  it,  we  are 
not  so  ignorant,  any  of  us,  as  not  to  see  how 
exquisitely  dressed  you  are.  I  never  saw 
such  a  fit.     And  how  it  becomes  you  !  " 

Margaret  was  in  truth  looking  exceedingly 
lovely.  She  had  selected  a  black  silk  dress : 
perhaps  from  having  been  led  to  think  of  the 
ivory  whiteness  of  her  own  skin  in  connec- 
tion with  her  prognostications  of  the  efiect 
of  the  morning's  ride  on  her  sister's.  At 
all  events,  the  choice  was  a  judicious  one. 
Not  only  the  complexion  of  the  face,  but  the 
perfect  creamy  whiteness  of  the  magnificent 
throat,  and  as  much  as  could  be  seen  of  the 
shoulders,  was  shown  off  to  the  utmost  ad- 
vantage by  the  dark  folds  of  the  material  in 
juxtaposition  with  it.  As  before,  Kate  wore 
her  beautiful  hair  in  ringlets,  while  Marga- 
ret's somewhat  darker  locks  were,  quite  un- 
usually for  Sillshire,  bound  tightly  around 
her  small  classically  shaped  head,  not  only 
displaying  to  advantage  the  beauty  of  it,  but 
adding  in  appearance  to  her  height.  Kate 
was  in  fact  the  taller  of  the  two  girls.  But 
what  with  this  difference  of  headdress,  what 
with  her  somewhat  more  slender  figure,  and 
what  with  the  additional  advantage  given  to 
this  by  the  cut  and  admirable  fitting  of  her 
dress,  anybody  who  had  seen  the  two  other- 
wise than  absolutely  side  by  side,  would  have 
said  that  Margaret  had  the  advantage.  Kate 
wore  white  silk  stockings  and  kid  shoes; 
Margaret,  black  silk — of  that  very  fine  and 


50 

gauzy  quality  which  allows  a  sufficiency  of 
the  whiteness  of  the  skin  beneath  to  shine 
thi-ough  the  thin  covering  to  turn  the  black 
almost  to  gray — and  black  satin  shoes.  And 
here  again,  alas  !  she  had  the  advantage  over 
our  Snishire  Kate.  And  men  will  be  so  stu- 
pid in  these  matters  !  I  would  lay  a  wager 
that  either  Captain  EUingham,  Fred  Falconer, 
or  Mr.  Mcrriton,  the  latter  especially, — he 
was  the  youngest, — would  have  said  the  next 
morning  that  Margaret  had  the  prettier  foot ; 
whereas  all  that  could  have  been  said  in  jus- 
tice was  that  she  had  the  prettier  shoe.  In 
this  matter  Sillshire  could  not  compete  with 
Paris.  And  it  may  be  possible  that  the  ac- 
tive habits  of  Sillshire  life  had  added  some- 
thing to  the  muscular  development,  and 
therefore  to  the  thickness  of  the  country-bred 
foot,  which  had  done  more  walking,  running, 
jumping,  riding,  swimming  in  its  life  than 
any  score  of  Parisian  young  ladies'  feet.  At 
all  events,  theesquisitely  beautiful  slenderness 
of  the  by  no  means  short  but  well-foi"med 
foot  and  high,  arched  instep,  which  showed 
itself  beneath  the  folds  of  Margaret's  black 
dress,  was  shown  to  the  greatest  possible 
advantage  by  the  skill  of  the  Parisian  Mel- 
notte  of  that  day. 

Upon  the  whole,  the  contrasted  style  of 
their  dresses  added  so  much  to  the  real  dif- 
ferences between  the  two  girls,  and  the  con- 
trasted style  of  their  manner  added  so  much 
more,  that  no  stranger  would  have  guessed 
them  to  be  sisters,  much  less  twins.  As  to 
this  latter  matter  of  beai-ing,  gait,  and  all  the 
innumerable  and  indescribable  little  details! 
which  make  up  what  is  called  manner,  there 
was  more  room  for  difference  of  opinion. 
Every  man  admires  a  Parisian  dress  or  shoe 
more  than  a  Sillshire  one  ;  but  some  men — 
and  not  Sillshire  men  only — may  prefer  the 
Lindisfarn-bred  to  the  Chassec-d' Aniin-hved 
manner.  Margaret  herself,  however,  had  no 
doubt  at  all  upon  this  department  of  the 
question,  any  more  than  upon  the  other. 
And  her  last  final  glance  at  the  Psyche  glass 
in  her  chamber  sent  her  down-stairs  by  Kate's 
side  in  high  good-humor. 

AVhen  they  entered  the  drawing-room,  they 
found  Miss  Immy  and  j\Ir.  Mat,  with  Lady 
Farnleigh  and  Captain  EUingham.    Thesquir 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


foretaste  of  autumn.  Lady  Farnleigh  and 
Miss  Tmmy  were  sitting  near  the  fire,  and 
discussing  a  method,  said  to  be  infallible,  for 
keeping  eggs  fresh  longer  than  any  other  way  ; 
and  Miss  Immy  was  declaring  her  conviction 
that  a  fresh-laid  egg  was  a  fresh-laid,  and  a 
stale  egg  a  stale  egg,  despite  all  the  clever- 
ness and  contrivances  in  the  world.  Mr.  Mat 
and  Captain  EUingham  were  talking  in  the 
embrasure  of  a  window  near  the  door.  When 
the  girls  came  in,  however,  and  went  to  join 
the  ladies  on  the  rug  before  the  fire,  the  two 
gentlemen  came  forward,  and  Captain  EUing- 
ham was  presented  by  Lady  Farnleigh  to  both 
the  young  ladies.  There  was  not  the  slight- 
est difference  in  her  manner  in  either  case ; 
but  she  introduced  the  stranger  first  to  Kate. 
And  a  slight  shade  passed  over  Margaret's 
heart,  not  over  her  face, — pas  si  bete  ! — as  the 
redection  occurred  to  her  that  Kate  had  no 
right  to  be  treated  as  if  she  were  the  elder 
sister. 

Margaret  saw  enough  of  the  captain  with 
half  a  glance,  however,  to  make  up  her  raiad 
at  once  that  as  far  as  he  was  concerned,  any 
little  matter  of  this  kind  was  of  small  impor- 
tance to  her.  Knowing  how  poor  a  man  Cap- 
tain EUingham  was,  it  was  quite  a  satisfac- 
tion to  her — almost,  one  might  say,  a  relief — 
to  find  that  no  amount  of  dangerous  attractive- 
ness had  been  thrown  away  upon  him.  And 
yet  all  women,  and  even  all  young  girls, 
would  not  have  been  at  all  disposed  to  sub- 
scribe to  IMai'garet's  opinion  on  this  point. 
Captain  EUingham  was  one  of  those  men  who 
seem  to  impersonate  the  beau-iJcal  of  their 
calling.  He  looked  exactly  what  he  was, — 
every  inch  a  sailor.  He  was  of  middling 
height,  very  broad  in  the  shoulders,  with  not 
an  ounce  of  superfluous  flesh  on  him.  His 
coal-black  hair  and  whiskers,  of  which  he 
wore  rather  more  than  was  at  that  time  usual 
among  landsmen,  were  already  beginning  to 
be  slightly  streaked  with  gray.  His  cheek 
was  dark  by  nature,  and  bronzed  by  exposure 
to  weather.  The  large,  good-humored  mouth , 
showing  every  time  he  smiled  a  set  of  mag- 
nificently regular  teeth,  was  supported  by  a 
massive  square  chin,  the  fleshlessness  of 
which,  and  of  the  jaw  behind  it,  caused  the 
lower  edge  of  the  latter  to  show  an  angle  as 
had  not  yet  come  into  the  room.     There  was  >  clean  and  well-defined  as  the  right  angle  of  a 


a  fire  in  the  grate  ;  for,  though  it  had  been 
hitherto  lovely  September  weather,  the  day 
had  been   boisterous  and  windy, — the  first 


square  piece  of  iron  ;  and  it  looked  as  hard 
and  firm  as  that.  But  the  eyes  were  the 
principal  feature  of  his  face.    They  were  large 


brown  eyes,  ■vvhidi,  when  thcj  looked  any- 
body in  the  face  without  any  reason  for  spe- 
cial expression,  gave  the  impression  that  noth- 
ing could  ever  make  them  wink.  W  hen  they 
were  under  the  influence  of  any  particular 
attitude  of  mind,  it  was  strange  how  varied, 
and  indeed  how  contradictory,  the  expression 
of  them  could  be.  Men  said — his  own  men, 
the  crow  of  his  ship  especially — that  Captain 
EUingham  had  the  eye  of  a  hawk.  Others 
said — not  men  so  much — that  Captain  EUing- 
ham had  an  eye  like  a  stag.  For  the  rest  he 
had  that  sort  of  quick,  decided  manner,  and 
that  extra  and  superfluous  amount  of  move- 
ment in  his  bearing,  gait,  and  action,  which 
is  apt  to  charasterize  temperaments  of  great 
energy  and  nervous  excitability.  Upon  the 
whole,  one  might  say  that  Captain  EUing- 
ham was  not,  perhaps,  a  man  to  fall  over  head 
and  ears  in  love  with  at  first  sight,  but  one 
with  whom  it  would  be  very  specially  difficult 
to  struggle  out  of  love  again,  if  once  an  ad- 
venturous heart  should  have  advanced  far 
enough  to  begin  to  feel  the  power  of  attrac- 
tion. 

Captain  EUingham,  on  his  side,  was  one  of 
those  men  particularly  apt  to  fall  in  love,  as 
it  is  called,  at  first  sight,  but  not  irretrieva 
bly  so.  There  was  too  much  depth  of  charac- 
ter, too  much  caution,  too  much  shrewd  com- 
mon sense,  and  too  strong  an  admiration  for, 
and  cleaving  to,  and  need  of,  nobleness  and 
goodness  for  that.  So  that,  in  point  of  fact, 
his  tendency  to  love  at  first  sight  amounted 
to  little  more  than  great  susceptibility  to 
every  form  of  female  charm,  joined  to  that 
proneness  to  poetize  each  manifestation  of  it 
into  a  conformity  with  his  own  ideal,  which 
generally  characterizes  such  temperaments. 

Lady  Farnleigh's  spirit,  if  any  amount  of 
"  medium  "  power  could  cause  it  to  look  over 
the  writer's  shoulder  as  the  words  are  formed 
by  his  pen — (would  that  it  could  do  so  !  ah, 
would  that  it  could!)— Lady  Farnleigh's 
spirit,  I  say,  would  be  very  angry  at  the 
breach  of  confidence.  But  the  fact  was  that, 
as  they  returned  together  in  her  ladyship's 
carriage  to  Wanstrow  that  night,  Captain 
EUingham  admitted  that,  of  the  two  cliarm- 
ing  girls  he  had  seen,  he  had  been  most  struck 
by  that  exquisitely  lovely  sylph  in  black  ; — 
certainly  the  most  beautiful  creature  he  had 
ever  seen  !  Whereupon  that  somewhat  free- 
spoken  lady  had  told  him  that  he  was  a  great 


LINDISFARN    CHASE.  51 

goose,  and  knew  about  as  much  of  women  as 
she  did  of  haulyards  and  marlingspikes 


Very  ^hort  time,  however,  was  allowed  him 
for  any  quiet  comparison  of  the  two  Lindis- 
farn  lasses,  before  the  rest  of  the  guests  began 
to  arrive.  The  first  comers  were  old  Mr. 
Falconer  and  his  son.  The  latter  is  already 
in  some  degree  known  to  the  reader.  The 
first  thing  that  struck  one  in  the  former,  was 
his  adherence  to  the  then  all  but  obsolete  fash- 
ion of  wearing  a  queue,  or  pigtail,  and  pow- 
der. He  was  a  tall,  florid,  well-preserved  old 
gentleman,  somewhere  between  sixty  and  sev- 
enty, who,  having  lived  among  the  clergy  of 
a  cathedral  city  all  his  life,  had  acquired  nat- 
urally in  a  great  degree,  and  afi'ected  in  a  still 
greater,  a  clerical  tone  of  manners  and  senti- 
ments. Nothing  pleased  old  Mr.  Falconer 
more  than  to  be  mistaken  for  a  clergyman. 

Mr.  Freddy,  whose  drawing-room  get-up  was 
in  all  respects  on  a  par  with  that  of  his  morn- 
ing hours,  and  on  a  level  with  his  reputation, 
after  he  had  greeted,  with  salutations  accu- 
rately and  gracefully  adapted  to  the  special 
fitness  of  each  particular  case,  all  his  old  ac- 
quaintances, was  of  course  presented  first  to 
Margaret  and  afterward  to  Captain  EUing- 
ham ; — the  first  by  Kate,  with  a  very  gra- 
cious "My  sister,  Mr.  Falconer.  Your  Pa- 
risian reminiscences  [jMr.  Freddy  had  spent  a 
winter  in  Paris]  will  make  you  seem  almost 
more  like  an  old  acquaintance  than  any 
other  of  her  Sillshire  friends."  The  other 
introduction  was  performed  less  graciously 
by  Lady  Farnleigh,  as  thus:  "Mr.  Falco- 
ner, the  Honorable  Mr.  EUingham,  in  com- 
mand of  His  jNLajesty's  Revenue  Cutter,  the 
Petrel,  on  the  Sillmouth  station." 

Lady  Farnleigh  always  called  Lieutenant 
EUingham  Captain,  like  all  the  rest  of  the 
world.  I  do  not  know  why  she  chose  not  to 
do  so  on  this  occasion ;  and  I  suppose  that 
Freddy  Falconer  could  not  have  told  why 
either.  But  he  observed  it  ;  and  hated  Lady 
Farnleigh  for  it  more  than  he  did  before.  It 
was  because  he  hated  her,  and  not,  to  do  him 
justice,  from  any  vulgar  reverence  for  her 
superior  rank,  that  his  bow  to  her  had  been 
markedly  lower  than  to  any  other  person  in 
the  room. 

Next  arrived  Dr.  Thcophilus  Lindisfarn, 
bringing  with  him,  not  indeed  the  precious 
memoir  on  Coffer-work  Ceilings,  but  another, 
on  "  The  Course  and  Traces  of  the  Ancient 


52 


City  Walls  of  Silverton,"  as  an  offering  to 
Margaret,  the  ceremonious  presentation  of 
which  before  the  assembled  company,  and  the 
consequent  pouncing  on  her  by  old  Mr.  Fal- 
coner, not  a  little  disgusted  that  sylphlike 
creature,  and  wreaked  on  her  some  measure 
of  punishment  for  the  false  pretences  which 
had  brought  it  upon  her.  She  had  reason  to 
suspect,  too,  that  there  was  more  of  thesame 
sort  of  annoyance  in  store  for  her  ;  for  the 
canon  had  entered  the  room  bearing  in  his 
hands  a  carefully  packed  and  sealed  brown- 
paper  parcel,  looking  very  much  like  a  brick 
in  size  and  shape,  which  he  had  carefully 
deposited  on  a  side-table,  saying  with  sundry 
winks  and  nods  and  mysterious  smiles,  that 
there  was  something  for  their  amusement  in 
the  evening,  which  he  believed  some,  at  least, 
of  those  present  (with  a  very  flatteringly 
meaning  look  at  Margaret)  would  appreciate. 

Then  came  in  the  squire,  with  a  rush  and 
a  circular  fire  of  apologies. 

"  A  thousand  pardons.  Lady  Farnleigh  ! 
You  have  tolerated  my  ways  so  long  that  I 
hope  you  will  bear  Avith  them  a  little  longer, 
and  give  up  all  hope  of  seeing  them  mended. 
How  do.  Falconer?  I  am  not  absolutely  un- 
punctual  though.  It  is  not  sis  o'clock  yet ! 
Wants  two  minutes !  " 

"  And  a  half,  Mr.  Lindisfarn  !  "  said  the  old 
banker,  in  a  comforting,  encouraging  sort  of 
tone,  as  he  consulted  his  chronometer. 

"Thank  you.  Falconer.  And  a  half! 
Who  calls  that  not  being  in  time  ?  How  do, 
brother?  How  is  Lady  Sempronia?  Not 
equal  to  the  trial  of  coming  up  to  the  Chase, 
eh?" 

And  then  the  squire  was  introduced  to 
Captain  EUingham— duly  called  so  this  time 
— by  Lady  Farnleigh  ;  and  welcomed  him  to 
the  Chase  and  to  Sillshire  with  a  charming 
mixture  of  high-bred  courtesy  and  friendly 
cordiality. 

"And  now.  Mat,  ring  the  bell,  and  tell 
them  that  they  may  let  us  have  dinner,  there's 
a  good  fellow.     You  must  be  all  half-starved." 

"  But  we  are  not  all  here,  Mr.  Lindisfarn," 
said  Miss  Immy.  "  We  are  expecting  Mr. 
Merriton  and  his  sister  from  the  Friary,  Lady 
Farnleigh.  Mr.  Lindisfarn  asked  them  him- 
self; and  now  he  has  forgotten  all  about 
it!  " 

"  Bless  me,  so  I  had  !  Don't  tell  of  me, 
anybody  !  Bufthey  ought  to  have  been  here 
%y  this  time.     I  hope  they  don't  mean  to 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


bring  London  ways  into  Sillshire,  and  under- 
stand one  to  mean  seven  when  one  says  sis." 

"  Our  clocks  are  too  fast,  Mr.  Lindisfarn. 
I  told  you  so  the  other  day,"  pleaded  Miss 
Immy. 

"  Not  if  they  make  it  now  only  two  min- 
utes past  six,"  said  Mr.  Falconer,  again  con- 
sulting his  infallible  watch. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  the  squire  ;  "  and 
perhaps  the  best  way  of  showing  them  that 
six  means  sis  in  Sillshire  would  be  to  go  to 
dinner." 

But  the  squire  was  persuaded  to  allow  a 
little  law  on  the  score  of  the  defaulters'  be- 
ing strangers,  and  this  the  first  time  of  of- 
fending. And  happily  a  carriage  was  heard 
crunching  the  gravel  outside  the  drawing- 
room  windows  before  another  ten  minutes 
had  passed,— which,  however  long  they  may 
have  seemed  to  the  seniors  of  the  party,  passed 
quickly  enough  with  some  of  the  others. 

And  then  Mr.  Merriton  and  Miss  ]\Ierriton 
were  announced.  They  were  entire  sti-angers 
to  everybody  in  the  room  except  the  Falcon- 
ers, and  except  in  so  far  as  a  casual  meeting 
had  introduced  Mr.  Merriton  to  Mr.  Lindis- 
farn. And  there  was  consequently  a  little 
excitement  of  expectation  among  the  party 
assembled,  to  see  what  the  new-comers  into 
the  county  were  like.  And  in  the  nest  in- 
stant it  was  recognized  by  all  present  that 
they  were,  at  all  events,  remarkable-looking 
people. 

Arthur  Merriton,  though  a  smaller  and 
slighter  man  than  either  Captain  EUingham 
or  Fred  Falconer,  would  have  been  thought 
by  many  a  more  remarkably  handsome  man 
than  either.  He  would  probably  have  been 
more  generally  thought  eo  in  England  than 
among  his  mother's  countrymen,  where  the 
peculiar  type  of  his  beauty  is  much  more 
common.  Fred  Falconer's  brown  locks  and 
carnation-colored  cheeks  would  have  attract- 
ed more  admiring  eyes  among  the  beauties  of 
the  Conca  dJoro,  and  the  carefully-blinded 
windows  of  Palermo,  than  the  raven 's-wing 
curls,  the  brilliant  dark  eyes,  and  the  thin, 
transparent-looking  sallow  cheeks,  and  finely- 
formed  but  yellow-white  brow  of  the  son  of 
a  Sicilian  mother.  In  person  and  figure  he 
was  delicately  and  slenderly  made,  with  small 
and  well-shaped  hands  and  feet.  His  man- 
ner was  unexceptionably  gentleman-like  ;  but 
there  was  a  nervousness  about  it  that  seemed 
half  excitability  and  half  shyness,  as  he  went 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


througli  the  ordeal  of  being  presented  to  the 
various  individuals  of  his  new  neighborhood. 
And  tliis  peculiarity  of  manner  was  yet 
more  marked  in  the  case  of  his  sister.  She 
was  very  small,  moreover,  and  really  fairy- 
like in  figure,  which  increased  the  cfTcct  of 
her  shrinking  timidity  and  nervousness  of 
manner.  Her  little  figure,  in  its  almost  min- 
iature proportions,  was  exquisitely  perfect ; 
but  the  foce  had  peculiarities  which  pre- 
vented it  from  being  beautiful.  The  large, 
Hiir  forehead,  which  seemed  first  to  attract 
anybody  who  saw  Miss  Merriton  for  the  first 
time,  was  too  large,  and  too  square,  and  too 
prominent  for  the  small  face.  The  eyes  had 
also  the  rare  defect  of  being  too  large.  But 
perhaps  their  size  alone  would  not  have 
seemed  a  fault,  if  they  bad  not  also  been  too 
prominent,  and  what  the  French  call  a  flcur 
dc  tele.  The  other  features  of  the  face  were 
good  and  delicate.  Exceeding  delicacy,  in- 
deed, was  the  prominent  and  paramount 
characteristic  of  the  entire  face  and  figui-e. 


53 

The  hair  was  most  remarkably  abundant? 
and  beautiful  in  quality,  and  as  black  as 
night.  The  whole  face,  except  the  lips,  was 
entirely  colorless. 

The  ladies  and  the  young  men  had  had 
time  to  note  all  this  ;  and  the  old  men  had 
had  time  to  think  to  themselves,  "  What  a 
very  strange-looking  little  body !  "  when  the 
dinner-bell  at  length  rang. 

Mr.  Liudisfarn  gave  his  arm  to  Lady  Farn- 
leigh ;  Mr.  Falconer  took  Miss  Immy  ;  Dr. 
Theophilus  seized  on  JMargaret,  to  her  ex- 
ceeding great  disgust,  making  her  feel  as 
though  she  should  burst  into  tears  amid  the 
sweet  smiles  with  which  she  looked  up  into 
his  face,  and  pretended  to  coax  him,  as  they 
walked  to  the  dining-room,  to  tell  her  what 
was  inside  the  brown-paper  parcel  ;  Captain 
Ellingham's  character  of  stranger,  as  well  as 
his  rank,  secured  him  Kate's  arm  ;  Freddy 
Falconer  had  Miss  Llerriton  under  his  care  ; 
and  so,  with  jNIr.  Merriton  and  Mr.  Mat 
bringing  up  the  rear,  they  went  to  dinner. 


54 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


CHAPTER  X. 
AT    DINNEE,   AND   AFTERWARD. 


Tt  was  somewhat  contrary  to  rule  ;  but  the 
head  of  the  table  at  the  Chase  was  always 
occupied  by  Miss  Immy.  It  was  so  for  that 
good  old  conservative  reason,  that  it  always 
had  been  so  from  time  immemorial.  And 
the  arrangement  was  a  good  one,  under  the 
circumstances,  on  one  account,  at  all  events, — 
that  it  obviated  any  diflSculty  as  to  the  ques- 
tion to  which  of  the  twin  Lindisfarn  lasses 
should  be  assigned  that  post  of  honor.  So 
Miss  Immy  sat  at  the  top  of  the  table,  with 
the  canon  on  her  right  and  the  old  banker  on 
her  left  hand,  exactly  as  she  had  done  on 
many  a  previous  occasion.  And  next  to  Dr. 
Lindisfarn,  of  course,  sat  IMargaret.  On  the 
right  hand  of  the  squire  was  Lady  Farnleigh, 
and  opposite  to  her  Miss  Merriton,  with  Fred 
Falconer  by  her  side.  One  place  thei-efore 
remained  vacant  between  him  and  Margaret. 
On  the  opposite  side  of  the  table,  to  the  right 
of  the  squire,  that  is  to  say,  next  to  old  Mr. 
Falconer,  sat  Kate,  v/ith  Captain  Ellinghara 
on  the  other  side  of  her.  So  that  on  this  side 
of  the  table,  also,  there  remained  one  vacant 
place  between  EUingham  and  Lady  Farnleigh  ; 
and  all  the  party  were  seated  except  the  two 
luckless  unmated  cavaliers,  Merriton  and  Mr. 
Mat.  It  was  an  anxious  moment  for  Margaret, 
while  it  remained  in  doubt  which  of  the  two 
unseated  ones  would  find  his  place  on  her  side 
and  which  of  them  on  the  other.  .  Had  she 
found  herself  between  the  doctor  and  Mr. 
Mat,  the  swellkig  indignation  at  her  gentle 
heart  must  have  brimmed  over  at  the  eyes. 
She  had  already  suffered  from  fate  almost  as 
much  as  she  could  bear  ;  and  had  endured  it 
with  the  smiles  of  the  red  Indian  at  the  stake. 

As  it  was  she  was  rewarded  for  her  heroism. 
Of  the  two  places  that  remained  unfilled  when 
Merriton  and  Mr.  Mat  entei-ed  the  room  to- 
gether, closing  the  procession  from  the  draw- 
ing-room, Mr.  Mat  saw  at  a  glance  the  ad- 
vantages and  disadvantages  attached  to  each 
of  them,  and  like  an  old  soldier  lost  no 
time  in  seizing  on  that  which  pleased  him  best. 
Mr.  Merriton,  even  if  he  had  had  any  pref- 
ei-ences  on  the  subject,  was  far  too  shy  and 
nervous  to  have  acted  with  promptitude  for 
the  gratification  of  them.  Mr.  Mat  had  the 
choice,  therefore,  of  a  place  between  Lady 
Farnleigh  and  Captain  EUingham,  or  one  be- 
tween Margaret  and  Fred  Falconer,  and  did 
not  hesitate  an  instant.     Mr.  Mat  had  sot  no 


further  yet,  as  regarded  Margaret,  than  the 
unwilling  admission  to  himself  that  she  did 
not  zcm  like  a  Lindisfarn  lass,  and  the  feel- 
ing that  he  could  not  quite  make  her  out. 
But  Mr.  Freddy  Falconer  was  his  abomina- 
tion. On  the  other  hand,  Lady  Farnleigh 
was  a  great  favorite  of  his,  and  she  always 
made  much  of  Mr.  Mat  ;  while  of  Captain 
EUingham  he  had  liked  well  enough  what 
little  he  had  seen  of  him  during  their  short 
conversation  in  the  drawing-room  before  the 
other  guests  had  arrived. 

So  Mr.  Mat  slipped  round  the  table  to  the 
vacant  place  on  the  side  opposite  the  door  of 
the  room,  befoi'e  Mr.  Merriton  had  time  to 
see  where  there  was  any  place  for  him  at  all ; 
and  IMargaret  was  made  happy  by  finding  the 
evidently  "eligible"  Mr.  Merriton  by  her 
side. 

If  only  she  could  have  changed  places  with 
him  !  She  would  then  have  been  what  the 
moralist  tells  us  nobody  is, — ab  omni  -parte 
beata, — with  Merriton  on  one  side  and  Freddy 
Falconer  on  the  other  !  That  was  what  she 
would  have  liked,  if  she  could  have  had  it  all 
her  own  way.  She  would  have  preferred,  too, 
if  she  could  not  have  both  those  good  things, 
to  have  had  Fred  Falconer  by  her  side,  rather 
than  Mr.  Merriton.  She  had  not,  it  is  true, 
any  accurate  data  of  the  kind  which  alone 
ought  to  determine  the  choice  of  a  well- 
brought-up  and  thoroughly  prudent  young 
lady  in  a  case  of  the  kind.  Fred  Falconer 
was  the  only  son  of  a  rich  banker.  Mr.  Mer- 
riton was  the  only  son  of  a  merchant  who 
must  be  presumed  to  have  been  rich  also,  and 
had  just  bought  an  estate.  It  was  impossible 
to  say.  It  was  a  case  of  doubt,  in  which  it 
was  perfectly  permissible  to  sufier  one's  self 
to  be  influenced  by  mere  personal  inclination, 
and  Margaret  felt  fixr  more  inclined  to  like 
Falconer.  To  her  thinking  he  was  out  of  all 
comparison  the  handsomer  man  of  the  two ; 
and  then  he  had  Vusage  du  monde,  as  she  said 
in  discussing  the  matter  afterward  with  her 
sister. 

Nevertheless,  she  was  tolerably  well  con- 
tented with  the  goods  the  gods  had  provided 
her  in  young  Merriton.  Things  had  looked 
much  worse!  What  would  it  have  been,  if 
she  had  been,  as  seemed  at  one  moment  so 
likely,  shut  up  between  her  uncle  and  Mr. 
Mat?  And  then  an  impartial  consideration 
of  the  entire  situation  required  that  much 
weight  should  be  allowed  to  the  position  of 


LINDISFARN 

tlic  rival  forces  on  the  battle-field.  ^\nd  with 
tiiis  slic  was  tolerably  contented.  If  she  could 
not  have  the  incomparable  Frederick,  it  was 
far  better  that  he  ehould  be  given  up  to  that 
absurd  and  childish-looking  Miss  Merriton 
than  to  Kate ;  especially  bearing  in  mind 
those  hints  that  had  fallen  from  Lady  Farn- 
Icigh  on  the  suljjcct !  She  admitted  to  her- 
self that  she  could  not  have  managed  Kate's 
place  lictter,  if  the  arrangement  had  been  left 
entirely  to  her  own  discretion.  She  was  sep- 
arated hy  the  entire  length  and  breadth  of 
the  table  from  Fred  Falconer,  and  was  be- 
tween his  father,  and  that  disagreeable-look- 
ing Captain  Ellingham,  who  was  of  no  use, 
but  might  possibly  serve  the  purpose  of  mak- 
ing Falconer  jealous.  Margaret  was  also  well 
pleased  to  be  placed  at  a  good  distance  from 
Lady  Farnleigh. 

"You  would  not  have  had  such  a  fish  as 
that,  Mr.  Lindisfarn,  I  can  tell  you,"  said 
Miss  Immy,  as  the  canon  began  to  cut  up  the 
turbot,  under  the  watchful  eye  of  his  brother 
antiquary  opposite,  who  jealously  observed 
the  distribution  of  the  dividend  of  fin, — "  you 
would  not  have  had  such  a  fish  as  that,  Mr. 
Lindisfarn,  if  I  had  not  spoken  to  Cookson 
myself  about  it ;  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  get  a 
bit  offish,  nowadays,  Lady  Farnleigh.  It  all 
goes  to  London." 

"  It  would  not  be  a  bad  plan  for  the  Silver- 
ton  people  to  subscribe  and  rig  out  a  fishing- 
boat  of  their  own,"  said  Mr.  Mat. 

"  The  Londoners  would  out-bid  you,  sir. 
Fish  like  everything  else  icill  go  to  the  best 
market,"  said  old  Falconer. 

"  And  if  your  fisherman  were  to  catch  not 
on  his  own  account  but  on  yours,  I  am  afraid 
the  Silverton  subscription  boat  would  liardly 
get  a  fair  share  of  the  fish,"  said  Captain  El- 
lingham. 

"  I  am  content  to  leave  the  matter  in  the 
hands  of  Miss  Immy  and  Cookson,"  said  the 
doctor  ;  "  for  I  never  ate  a  better  fish  in  my 
life." 

"  Lady  Farnleigh  tells  me  that  you  are  a 
great  swimmer  as  well  as  an  accomplished 
rider,  jSIiss  Lindisfai-n,"  said  Captain  Elling- 
ham to  Kate.  "  Are  you  fond  of  the  sea  in 
any  other  way, — boating  or  yachting?  " 

"  I  have  had  very  little  opportunity  of  try- 
ing," answered  Kate; — "  never  in  anything 
larger  than  one  of  the  small  Sillmouth  pilot 
boats  ;  but  I  liked  that  very  much,  —almost 
as  much  as  a  gallop  on  land." 


CHASE.  55 

"  I  wonder  whether  I  could  induce  you 
and  your  sister  to  take  a  day's  cruise  in  my 
cutter.  I  am  sure  we  could  pei'siiade  Lady 
Farnleigh  to  do  chapcrone.'" 

"  I  should  like  it  of  all  things,"  said  Kate  ; 
"  it  would  be  a  great  treat." 

"  We  will  consult  Lady  Farnleigh  then, 
and  ask  your  sister  after  dinner.  The  only 
thing  is  to  choose  a  good  day.  It  would  be 
desperately  dull  work  foryou  to  be  becalmed." 

"  Such  a  day  as  to-day  would  be  the  thing  ; 
would  it  not?  "  said  Kate. 

"  Well,  you  may  have  too  much  of  a  good 
thing,  you  know.  Tliere  must  have  been  a 
good  deal  of  sea  off  the  coast  to-day." 

' '  Indeed  there  was  !  I  can  answer  for  that. 
Or  perhaps  I  should  say  that  there  seemed  to 
be  to  my  ignorance." 

"  Were  you  down  on  the  coast  to-day?" 

"  Yes,  I  and  Mr.  Mat  got  a  gallop  on  the 
Sillmouth  sands.  I  went  because  I  was  sure 
there  would  be  great -waves  with  this  south- 
west wind,  and  I  am  so  fond  of  seeing  them 
tumble  in  on  the  shore." 

"  AVhat !  You  knew  it  was  a  sou'west 
wind  then  ?  I  thought  landsmen  never  knew 
what  wind  was  blowing." 

"But  I  am  a  landswoman,  you  know. 
And  I  assure  you,  that  we  up  at  the  Chase 
here  are  apt  to  know  more  about  the  wind 
than  they  do  in  Silverton." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  you  must  get  the  most  of 
it  up  in  the  woods  above  the  house.  What 
magnificent  old  woods  they  are  !  " 

"  You  must  tell  Noll  that.  He  is  very  fond 
and  a  little  proud  of  the  Lindisfarn  v/oods." 

"  And  may  I  ask  who  Noll  is?  " 

"  Noll  is  the  elderly  gentleman  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  table,  whom  all  the  rest  of  the 
world  beside  me  call  Oliver  Lindisfarn,  Es- 
quire. Papa,  Captain  Ellingham  was  struck 
by  the  beauty  of  the  Lindisfarn  woods." 

"  You  must  see  them  by  daylight,  and  ride 
through  them,"  said  the  squire.  "There 
are  some  very  fine  trees  among  them.  But 
you  could  see  very  little  as  you  drove  up  to 
the  Chase  this  evening." 

"I  walked  up  the  hill,  and  enjoye<.i  the 
twilight  view  most  thoroughly.  And  then, 
you  know,  we  sailors  have  cats'  eyes,  and 
can  see  in  the  dark." 

If  you  care  about  that  sort  of  thing," 
said  old  Mr.  Falconer,  "  you  should  not  ride, 
but  walk,  through  the  woods  on  Lindisfarn 
i  brow,  as  wc  Silverton  people  cal  Ithe  crest  of 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


56 

the  hill  above  the  house  yonder.  There  are 
some  of  the  finest  sticks  of  timber  in  the 
county  there  ;  but  the  squire  wont  cut  a  tree 
of  them." 

"  No ;  there  is  another  old  stick  must  be 
felled  first,  before  the  axe  goes  among  the 
oaks  on  Lindisfarn  brow,"  said  the  squire. 

"  But  is  it  really  true  that  cats  can  see  in 
the  dark?"  asked  Miss  Immy ;  who  had 
been  meditating  on  that  assertion  since  Cap- 
tain Ellingham  had  made  it. 

"  It  is  generally  said  so  ;  but  at  all  events 
a  sailor  is  obliged  to  do  so,  more  or  less," 
said  Captain  Ellingham. 

"  I  wish  I  could,"  returned  Miss  Immy, 
meditatively  ;  "  for  I  am  always  afraid  of  set 
ting  my  cap  on  fire  when  I  carry  a  lighted 
candle  in  my  hand." 

"  The  boundary  line  of  the  Lindisfarn 
Chase  property  ran  very  close  behind  the  site 
of  the  house,  once  ujwna  time,"  said  old  Mr. 
Falconer,  "  and  all  the  woods  on  the  hill  were 
part  of  the  property  belonging  to  the  FriaryJ  living  within  five  miles  of  it 


at  Weston.  But  at  the  dissolution  of  thfe 
monasteries,  the  Lindisfarn  of  that  day  ob- 
tained a  grant  of  all  that  portion  of  the  land 
which  lies  on  this  side  of  the  Lindisfarn  Brook. 
It  has  often  seemed  odd  to  me,  that,  having 
sufficient  interest  to  obtain  so  large  a  slice  of 
the  spoil,  he  did  not  find  means  to  add  the 
whole  of  the  Friary  estates  to  Lindisfarn." 

"  I  don't  think  the  old  boundary  line  ran 
quite  as  you  conceive  it  to  have  done,  Falco- 
ner," said  the  doctor.  "  There  is  no  doubt 
about  the  line  as  far  as  the  corner  of  the  Wes- 
ton warren ;  but  supposing  us  to  take  our 
stand  at  that  point,"  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

And  the  two  old  gentlemen,  who  rarely  met 
without  a  battle  royal  on  some  point  or  other 
of  the  manifold  knotty  questions  with  which 
the  "  paths  of  hoar  antiquity  "  are  strewn 
quite  as  thickly  as  they  are  with  flowers,  en- 
tered forthwith  into  a  hot  dispute,  carrying 
on  the  fight  across  Miss  Immy,  who  kept  turn- 
ing from  one  speaker  to  the  other,  with  her 
little  palsied  nodding  of  the  head,  as  if  she 
took  the  most  lively  interest  in  the  matter  in 
hand,  and  was  very  much  convinced  by  the 
arguments  of  each  speaker  in  succession. 

Margaret,  meanwhile,  between  whom  and 
Mr.  Merriton  a  very  few  absolutely  matter- 
of-course  words  only  had  passed,  seized  the 
opportunity  afforded  by  Mr.  Falconer's  ex- 
pression of  surprise  that  some  ancestors  of 
hers  had  not  found  means  to  monopolize  the 


whole  of  the  ancient  Friary  property,  to  Bay 
to  her  neighbor,  speaking  in  a  very  low 
and  gentle  voice,  which  contrasted  with  the 
rather  loud  tone  in  which  all  the  rest  of  the 
conversation  had  been  carried  on, — 

"  I  am  sure  it  is  better  for  all  parties  that 
my  ancestors  did  not  add  the  Friary  to  Lin- 
disfarn. Do  you  not  think  so,  Mr.  Merri- 
ton ?  I  am  sure  it  is  of  more  advantage  to 
the  inhabitants  of  the  Chase  to  have  some 
other  neighbors  besides  the  good  people  of 
Silverton,  than  to  have  a  few  more  acres." 

"  At  all  events,"  replied  Mr.  Merriton, 
blushing  painfully  up  to  the  roots  of  his 
black  hair  as  he  spoke,  "  it  would  have  been 
in  every  point  of  view  a  misfortune  fo/  me, 
Miss  Lindisfarn." 

' '  I  have  never  been  at  the  Friary  yet ;  but 
I  am  told  that  it  is  the  most  beautiful  thing 
in  the  county  ;"  rejoined  Margaret,  in  the 
same  low  tone  of  voice. 
'  "  You  have  never  been  to  the  Friary  ?  And 


"  But  I  am  a  more  recent  inhabitant  of 
Sillshire  than  you  are,  Mr.  Merriton.  This 
is  only  the  fourth  day  from  my  arrival  at 
Lindisfarn." 

"I  thought  you  had  lived  here  all  your 
life,"  said  Mr.  Merriton,  simply. 

"No,  indeed!"  replied  the  young  lady, 
with  an  intonation  in  which  might  have  been 
detected  some  manifestation  of  a  conscious- 
ness that  her  neighbor's  supposition  was  not 
a  complimentary  one  ;  "  my  whole  life  has 
been  passed  in  Paris  ;  and  I  assure  you,"  she 
added  in  a  yet  lower  and  more  confidential 
tone,  "  that  I  find  myself  quite  as  much  in  a 
strange  land  here  as  you  can  do.  Does  not 
Miss  Merriton  find  all  the  things  and  all  the 
people  here  very" —  she  hesitated  a  little  be- 
fore adding — "  very  different  from  what  she 
has  been  used  to?  " 

As  Margaret  had  not  the  remotest  idea 
what  manner  of  people,  or  things,  or  places 
Miss  Merriton  had  been  used  to,  the  remark 
was  rather  hasarde,  as  IMargaret  would  have 
said  herself.  And  the  consciousness  that  it 
was  so  prompted  her  to  add,  "  I  suppose  you 
have  lived  in  London  ?  " 

"  For  rather  more  than  a  year  past  we 
have  done  so  ;  and  at  different  times  in  my 
life  I  have  been  in  town,  and  in  other  parts 
of  England  before.  But  the  greatest  por- 
tion of  my  life  has  been  passed  in  a  different 
clime." 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


There  was  in  the  last  words  Mr.  jNIerriton 
had  spoken,  and  in  the  manner  which  ac- 
companied them,  enough  to  have  aObrded  a 
shrewder  and  more  experienced  observer  than 
^Margaret  a  key  to  one  phase  at  least  of  his 
character  ;  but  she  was  not  equal  to  the  per- 
ception or  to  the  application  of  it.  And  he 
was  probably  a  little  disappointed  when  she 
replied  simply : — 

"  Have  you,  too,  lived  in  Paris,  then?" 

"  No,  Miss  Lindisfarn,  not  in  Paris.  My 
home  was  under  a  more  genial  sky." 

Margaret  gave  him  a  quick,  sharp,  side- 
long glance  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye,  and 
from  under  the  shelter  of  its  long  silken  lash  ; 
but  as  this  showed  her  nothing  in  Mr.  Mer- 
riton's  remarkably  handsome  face  but  an  ex- 
pression which  seemed  to  her  one  of  intense 
sadness,  and  as  she  did  not  see  her  way  at 
all  clearly  in  the  direction  which  their  con- 
versation was  taking,  she  changed  it  by  re- 
ferring to  the  safer  topic  of  the  Friary. 

"  Is  your  new  home  as  beautiful  a  place  as 
I  have  been  told  it  is,  Mr.  Merriton  ?  I  think 
I  should  be  more  inclined  to  accept  your 
opinion  on  the  subject  than  that  of — people 
who  have  known  little  else  than  Sillshire." 

"  Yes,  it  is  very  pretty  ;  a  very  pretty 
house  and  grounds.  But  I  hope,  Miss  Lin- 
disfarn, that  there  is  no  need  for  you  to  take 
anybody's  opinion  save  your  own,  on  the  sub- 
ject. I  trust  I  may  soon  have  the  pleasure 
of  showing  it  to  you." 

"  You  are  very  good.  I  should  so  like  it ! 
Indeed,  my  uncle,  Dr.  Lindisfarn,  had  prom- 
ised to  ask  your  permission  to  take  me  there 
with  him.  I  believe,"  she  added,  turning 
her  head  toward  him,  so  as  to  look  away 
from  her  uncle  on  the  other  side  of  her,  and 
speaking  in  a  very  low  voice,  "  that  it  is  con- 
sidered that  the  Friary  is  interesting  in  some 
antiquarian  point  of  view." 

There  was  no  fear  that  her  uncle  might 
overhear  any  of  her  conversation  with  Mr. 
Merriton  ;  for  he  was  far  too  bc?ily  and  too 
loudly  engaged  in  his  dispute  with  Mr.  Fal- 
coner carried  on  across  the  table. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Merriton  ;  "I  dare  say  it 
may  be  so  ;  for,  as  the  place  was  once  a  mon- 
astery, there  must  be  a  history  attached  to 
it.  Do  you  interest  yourself  in  such  pur- 
suits. Miss  Lindisfiirn?  " 

This  was  rather  a  difficult  question  for 
Margaret  to  answer.  There  was  in  the  mat- 
ter itaelf  somethino:,  and  in  the  tone  of  Mr. 


57 

Merriton's  last  speech  more,  to  disincline  her 
to  reply  in  the  affirmative,  and  she  was  afraid 
with  her  uncle  so  close  to  her  to  answer  as 
she  would  have  done  under  other  cii-cum- 
stances.  And  then  there  was  the  prospect  of 
the  part  she  would  have  to  play  when  the 
odious  brown-paper  parcel  should  be  opened 
after  dinner  in  the  drawing-room.  So  after 
casting  a  rapid  glance  at  her  uncle,  and  hav- 
ing thus  ascertained  that  he  was  thoroughly 
absorbed  in  his  conversation  about  the  an- 
cient boundary  line  between  the  Lindisfarn 
property  and  that  of  the  old  monks,  she  ven- 
tured to  say, — 

'•  Oh,  I  am  a  great  deal  too  ignorant  to  un- 
derstand anything,  or,  indeed  "  (almost  in  a 
whisper) ,  "  to  care  much  about  any  such  mat- 
ters. But  my  uncle  is  very  fond  of  them  :  and 
I  try  to  interest  myself  as  much  as  possible  in 
them  to  please  him,  you  understand.  When 
any  one  is  kind  to  me,  I  am  sure  to  take  an 
interest  in  what  interests  them.  That  is  a 
woman's  nature,  you  know,  Mr.  Merriton." 
"  We  must  talk  to  your  uncle  after  dinner, 
and  arrange  for  a  visit  to  the  Friary.  It 
ought  to  be  very  soon,  before  this  beautiful 
weather  is  over." 

"  And  you  must  make  me  acquainted,  too, 
with  your  sister,  Mr.  ]Merriton,  when  we  get 
into  the  drawing-room.  I  am  dying  to  make 
friends  with  her.  I  am  sure  we  shall  suit 
each  other.". 

Margaret  was  in  truth  anxious  to  have  the 
means  of  interrupting  or  impeding  in  some 
way  the  apparently  very  promising  flirtation 
which  had  been  progressing  during  dinner 
between  that  young  lady  and  Mr.  Frederick 
Falconer,  and  which  had  by  no  means  es- 
caped her  observation. 

"  Yes,  I  hope  you  will  like  my  sister,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Merriton  ;  "  but  you  must  have  the 
kindness  and  the  patience  to  make  yourself 
acquainted  with  her  first.  Emily  is  very 
timid,  very  shy,  very  retiring." 

Margaret  thought  to  herself  that  Mr.  Fal- 
coner had,  without  any  very  great  amount 
of  perseverance,  contrived  to  overcome  those 
barriers  to  acquaintanceship  with  Miss  Mer- 
riton ;  but  she  only  said, — 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  we  shall  understand  each 
other." 

Lady  Farnleigh,  the  squire,  and  Mr.  Mat 
had  been  all  this  time  discussing  the  alarm- 
ing increase  in  the  depredations  of  poachers, 
since  the  conclusion  of  the  war,  and  the  ue- 


58 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


ccssity  of  taking  some  steps,  which  Lady  terest  to  Kate  Llndisfam  ?  The  question  is 
Farnleigh  was  reluctant  to  adopt,  for  the  one  which  cuts  rudely  into  the  very  centre 
protection  of  the  game  on  the  Wanstrow  of  the  triply  guarded  citadel  and  my  Ktery  of 
Manor  Estate.  .  So  that,  what  with  the  eager  a  young  girl's  heart.  It  is  hardly  a  fair 
antiquarian  discussion  at  the  head  of  the  question.  Vital  importance !  No,  certainly  : 
table,  the  solio  voce  conversations  between  it  was  not  a  matter  of  vital  importance  I 
Margaret  and  Mr.  Merriton,  and  between  Well,  but  that  is  a  mere  quibble — a  riding 
Fred  Falconer  and  Miss  Merriton,  and  the  off  on  the  exact  sense  of  a  word.  Was  it  a 
tripartite  poaching  debate  at  the  bottom  of  matter  of  such  great  interest  to  her  to  know 
the  board,  there  was  every  opportunity  for  what  Mr.  Falconer  was  saying  to  Miss  I\Ier- 
Kate  and  Captain  Ellinghara  to  have  enjoyed  riton  ?  No  ;  she  certainly  did  not  at  all  wish 
as  undisturbed  a  tete-a-tete  as  any  similarly  to  overhear  any  part  of  his  conversation, 
circumstanced  individuals  could  have  de-  Was  Kate  in  love  with  Fred  Falconer? 
sired.     Yet  it  somehow  or   other   came   to   There,  that  is  plain ! 

pass  that  they  did  not  make  the  most — or  !  No  !  the  rude  question  may  be  answered 
even  much — of  it.  After  the  talk  between  ■  as  plainly.  No  ;  she  was  not  in  love  with 
them  about  the  proposed  excursion  in  the  cut-  Fred  Falconer.  If  he  had  proposed  to  Miss 
ter,  the  conversation  had  languished.  Cap-  Merriton  to-morrow,  and  married  her  next 
tain  Ellingham  had  eagerly  asked  whether  day,  Kate's  next  gallop  on  Birdie  would  not 
Margaret  liked  the  sea  as  well  as  her  sister,  ]  have  been  perhaps  a  whit  less  joyous,  or  her 
and  expressed  his  hope,  rather  more  ear-  :  rest  at  night  a  whit  less  unbroken.  Still, 
nestly  than  seemed  necessary,  that  she  ^  Kate  could  hardly,  at  the  time  in  question, 
should  be  of  the  proposed  party  ;  and  then  :  be  said  with  truth  to  walk  the  world  fancy- 
little  more  than  a  few  "  mere  words  of  i  free.  But  that  pretty  and  dainty  word  ex- 
course"  now  and  then  had  passed  between  presses  fully  and  entirely  the  whole  state  of 
them.  Captain  EUingham's  attention,  in  .  the  case.  Kate  was  not  altogether  fancy- 
fact,  was  engrossed  by  the  couple  who  sat '  free.  And  Lady  Farnleigh's  observations 
opposite  to  him,  Margaret  and  Mr.  Merriton,  and  inuendoes  upon  the  subject  had  not  been 
and  by  the  apparently  very  confidential  nat-  |  altogether  groundless.  Poor  Kate  !  Mr. 
ure  of  the  conversation  that  was  going  on  |  Frederick  Falconer  was  about  as  worthy  of 
between  them.  He  seemed  unable  to  take  i  her  as  a  black  beetle  might  be  supposed 
his  eyes  off  Margaret,  and  was,  in  fact,  ac-  worthy  to  mate  with  a  "  purple  emperor  " 
quiring  that  certainty  that  she  was  the  most  butterfly.  But  he  was  very  handsome,  very 
beautiful  creature  he  had  ever  seen,  which  he  ;  gentlemanlike,  very  well  thought  of  by 
expressed  afterward  to  Lady  Farnleigh  on  everybody  of  their  little  world  ;  could  make 
their  way  home.  himself  very  agreeable  (when  Lady  Farnleigh 

This  might  suffice  to  account  for  the  fact  i  was  not  present  ;  when  she  was,  some  mys- 
that  the  conversation  between  him  and  Kate  j  terious  influence  prevented  him  from  doing 
had  languished  during  the  dinner-time.  But  so),  and  Kate  had  never  seen  anything  bet- 
to  tell  the  whole  truth,  Kate  was  on  her  side,  !  ter.  So  there  is  the  truth.  If  it  be  insisted 
not  to  the  same  extent,  nor  so  undisguisedly,  (  on,  that  the  very  inmost  cliamber  of  her  gen- 
but  very  similarly  guilty.  Whereas  any-  tie,  pure  little  heart  be  made  the  object  of  a 
body  might  have  seen  that  Captain  EUing- '"  domiciliary  "  police  visit,  "documents" 
ham  was  observing  Margaret  with  undis-  !  might  be  found  there  of  a  *'  compromising  " 
guised  admiration,  aud  uneasiness  at  the  i  character,  so  far  as  the  fact  goes  that  she  did 
closeness  of  her  tete-a-ietc  vv'ith   the  man  by    feel  a  sufficient  interest  in  Fred  Falconer  to 


her  side,  nobody  save  a  very  fine  and  in- 
telligent observer  could  have  noted  the  oc- 
casional little  lightning-quick  and  furtive 
glances  which  Kate  sent  into  the  corner  of 
the  table  opposite  to  her,  on  an  errand  of 
discovery  respecting  the  nature  of  the  inter- 
course going  on  between  Frederick  Falconer 
and  Miss  Merriton. 


be  disconcerted — no,  that  is  too  strong — dis- 
pleased,— even  that  is  too  decided  ; — to  be 
curious  about — yes  ;  we  will  say  to  be  curi- 
ous about — that  gentleman's  very  evident 
and  perfectly  well  characterized  (as  the  nat- 
uralists say)  flirtation  with  ]\Iiss  Merriton. 

And  then  came  the  time,  very  soon  after 
the  cloth  was  removed,  and  always  precisely 


Was  that,  then,  a  matter  of  such  vital  in- '  at  the  same  number  of  minutes  after  it,  when 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


J\Iiss  Immy  rose  and  led  the  ladies  out  of  the 
dining-room.  And  the  dispute  between  the 
doctor  and  the  banker  raged  more  furiously 
than  ever.  And  the  squire  and  Mr.  Mat  set 
themselves  to  investigate  Mr.  !Merri ton's  ideas 
on  the  subject  of  poaching  and  game-preserv- 
ing. And  Fred  Falconer,  taking  his  glass 
in  his  hand,  went  round  the  table  to  Cap- 
tain EUingham,  and  made  himself  very 
pleasant  in  all  the  many  ways  in  which  an 
old  resident  can  do  so  to  a  new-comer  into 
any  social  circle.  Captain  EUingham  went 
into  the  drawing-room  thinking  that  the 
banker's  son,  though  a  little  foppish,  was  a 
very  good  and  agreeable  sort  of  fellow.  And 
Freddy — who  on  his  side  considered  him- 
self to  have  discovered  that  Captain  EUing- 
ham had  fallen  in  love  at  first  sight  with  ]Mar- 
garet  Lindisfarn — had  just  carelessly  dropped 
a  word  to  the  effect  that  he  thought  he  rather 
admired  Miss  Kate  most,  for  his  part,  but 
they  were  both  truly  charming  girls,  and 
had  received  an  invitation  from  Captain  EUing- 
ham to  make  one  of  the  professed  party  for  a 
cruise  in  the  cutter. 

As  soon  as  ever  they  got  into  the  drawing- 
room,  Captain  EUingham  lost  no  time  in  pro- 
posing his  scheme  to  jNIargaret,  who  declared 
at  once  that  it  would  be  delightful.  But  in- 
stead of  confiding  her  delight  in  the  project 
to  him,  as  he  would  have  liked,  and  making 
the  arrangement  a  little  matter  between  them- 
selves, she  chose  to  accept  it  with  such  loud 
and  open-mouthed  expressions  of  "  ho w  charm- 
ing it  would  be,"  and  such  a  proclamation 
of  the  "  delicious  idea  Captain  EUingham 
has,"  as  made  all  the  room  parties  to  the 
talk  between  them,  and  to  EUingham's  annoy- 
ance rendered  it  impossible  not  to  ask  also 
the  Merritons. 

And  then  all  the  young  people  got  round 
Lady  Farnleigh,  and  without  much  difliculty 
obtained  her  consent  to  act  as  lady  patroness, 
and  chaperone  general  of  the  party.  And  then 
the  day  was  to  be  fixed  ;  and  Lady  Farnleigh 
insisted  on  turning  the  scheme  into  a  picnic- 
party,  and  undertaking  herself  to  arrange 
with  ^liss  Immy  all  about  their  several  con- 
tributions of  comestibles. 

"  I  should  not  permit  anybody  but  you  in 
ail  the  world,  dear  Lady  Farnleigh,  to  treat 
my  ship  in  such  fashion.  But  you  are  priv- 
ileged !  " 

"  Of  course  ;  that  is  why  I  choose  to  exer- 
cise my  privilege.    Go  and  ask  Kate  there,  and 


59 

she  will  tell  you  that  my  part  here  is  to  be 
fairy  godmother,  and  always  to  do  as  I  please." 

And  EUingham  did  go  and  tell  Kate  what 
Lady  Farnleigh  proposed,  and  Avhat  she  had 
said.  And  that  gave  rise  to  a  little  conversa- 
tion between  them,  from  which  it  appeared 
that  they  both  of  them  cordially  agreed  in 
one  point  at  least, — a  hearty  and  admiring 
love  for  Kate's  godmother. 

Lady  Farnleigh  liaving  sent  off  EUingham 
on  the  above  errand,  stepped  across  the  room 
to  the  place  where  Miss  Merriton  was  sitting, 
and  taking  a  scat  by  the  side  of  her,  pro- 
ceeded to  make  acquaintance  with,  and  take 
the  measure  of,  the  new-comer  into  Sillshire. 

^Margaret  was  then  left,  to  her  intense  sat- 
isfaction, between  Fred  Falconer  and  Mr. 
Merriton,  and,  showing  her  ability  to  deal 
with  all  the  requirements  of  that  pleasurably 
exciting  but  somewhat  difficult  position  with 
consummate  tact  and  ability,  was  accordingly 
enjoying  herself  to  the  utmost — when  all  was 
spoilt  by  that  abominable  brick  in  the  brown- 
paper  parcel  ;  for  a  brick  it  turned  out  to 
be  !  Margaret  could  have  cried  ;  and  the 
two  young  men  devoutly  wished  the  learned 
canon  and  his  brick  under  the  sod  from  which 
he  had  poked  it  out.  But  they  did  not  know 
that  Margaret  had  brought  the  brick  down 
on  their  heads  by  her  own  false  pretences 
and  cajolery. 

She  had  her  punishment.  On  proceeding 
with  much  ceremony  to  the  opening  of  the  par- 
cel, which  in  fact  contained  a  brick  with  cer- 
tain mouldings  around  it,  on  which  he  founded 
a  learned  and  large  superstructure  of  hypoth- 
esis concerning  the  date  of  the  old  castle  keep 
at  Silverton,  the  doctor,  while  saying  that  he 
thought  the  very  remarkable  relic  he  had 
there  must  be  interesting  to  all  the  i^arty, 
declared  that  to  one  of  them  at  least  he  was 
very  sure  it  would  be  a  treat.  And  then 
Margaret  had  to  endure  a  martyrdom  of  a 
complicated  description.  She  had  in  the  first 
place  to  fence  so  skilfully  with  her  uncle  as 
to  conceal,  as  far  as  possible,  her  absolute 
and  entire  ignorance  of  even  the  sort  of  inter- 
est which  was  understood  to  attach  to  such 
relics.  But  this  was  the  easiest  part  of  her 
task  ;  for  the  doctor  loved  better  to  talk  than 
to  listen,  and  was  quite  ready  to  give  his  au- 
dience unlimited  credit  for  comprehension  of 
and  interest  in  the  subject.  But  she  had  to 
endure  also  what  she  acutely  felt  to  be  the  ridi- 
cule, in  the  eyes  of  the  jeunes  gens  (as  she 


60 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


would  have  said)  who  were  present,  of  the 
role  of  blue  stocking  and /em»ie-sflran;!e  which 
was  thus  thrust  upon  her, — a  role  which  was 
superlatively  repugnant  to  her,  and  unassorted 
to  everything  that  she  would  have  wished  to 
appear  in  their  eyes. 

However,  by  dint  of  meaning  and  appeal- 
ing looks  distributed  "  aside  "  (if  that  phrase 
may  be  used  of  looks  as  well  as  of  words)  with 
consummate  skill,  and  little  purring,  coaxing 
speeches  to  her  uncle,  and  a  liberal  use  of  a 
whole  arsenal  of  the  prettiest  and  most  inno- 
cent-looking minauderies  and  little  kittenish 
ways  imaginable,  she  came  out  of  the  ordeal 
better  than  could  have  been  expected ,  and  if  not 
without  suffering,  yet  with  little  or  no  dam- 
age in  the  eyes  of  any  one  there. 

And  then  came  a  simultaneous  ordering  of 
carriages,  and  departure. 

Dr.  Theophilus  Lindisfarn  packed  up  his 
brick  while  the  ladies  were  cloaking  them- 
selves, and  carried  it  off  as  his  sole  compan- 
ion in  the  little  one-horse  shandridan  that  so 
vexed  the  soul  of  Lady  Sempronia. 

Lady  Farnleigh  and  Captain  EUingham 
got  off  next.  The  only  part  of  the  talk  be- 
tween them  that  interests  us  has  been  al- 
ready given  to  the  reader.  Lady  Farnleigh 
was  more  provoked  by  her  friend's  preference 
for  Margaret  over  her  own  favorite  than  the 
few  words  she  had  uttered  indicated. 

"  To  think,"  she  said  to  herself  in  her 
meditations  on  the  subject,  "  that  men,  and 
men  of  sense,  too,  should  be  fooled  by  their 
eyes  to  such  an  extent ;  and  by  the  look,  too, 
not  of  a  pretty  girl,  but  of  a  pretty  dress ! 
For  Kate's  the  finer  girl,  two  to  one !  It 
was  all  that  chit's  Parisian  get-up.  Hang 
her  airs  and  graces  !  She  did  look  uncom- 
monly well  though,  that  is  undeniable." 
And  then  Lady  Farnleigh,  being  thoroughly 
minded  not  to  be  beaten  in  the  game  which 
she  clearly  saw  was  about  to  begin,  and  which 
she  was  bent  on  playing  to  her  own  liking, 
fell  into  a  meditation  on  the  possibility  of 
obtaining  for  her  favorite  those  advantages 
which  seemed  to  have  done  so  much  for  IMar- 
garet.  But  in  those  days  of  four-and-twenty 
hours'  journey  by  mail  between  London  and 
the  provinces,  it  was  not  so  easy  a  matter  to 
accomplish  anything  in  this  line  as  it  might 
have  been  in  our  day  of  universal  facilities. 

There  was  a  similar  discordance  of  opinion 
between  the  two  occupants  of  the  Merriton 
carriage,  as  it  returned  to  the  Friary.     Miss 


Merriton  and  her  brother,  indeed,  both  agreed 
in  praising  the  kindness  and  friendliness  of 
Lady  Farnleigh  ;  but  when  the  former  was 
enthusiastic  about  the  charmingness  and 
such-a-dear-girl-ness  of  Margaret,  who  had 
entirely  captivated  the  timid  little  Emily,  as 
she  had  set  herself  to  do,  her  brother  would 
only  answer  by  praises  of  Kate.  In  this  case 
the  captivating  had  been  a  more  unconscious 
and  unintentional  process  on  the  part  of  the 
captor.  When  Mr.  Merriton  had  twice  dur- 
ing his  conversation  with  Margaret  at  dinner 
alluded  to  his  home  "  in  other  climes,"  and 
"  more  genial  skies,"  and  had  taken  nothing 
by  the  effort  (for  such  an  advance  toward  in- 
timate talk  was  an  effort  for  him),  save  an 
unsympathizing  inquiry  whether  he  had  lived 
in  Paris,  he,  as  he  would  himself  have  ex- 
pressed it,  "  felt  himself  chilled."  But  when 
he  had  afterward  in  the  drawing-room,  on 
Kate's  addressing  to  him  some  words  about 
the  Friary,  put  out  a  similar  feeler  for  sym- 
pathy to  her,  it  had  been  responded  to  by  an 
enthusiastic  declaration  on  Kate's  part  that 
she  longed  to  see  Italy  ;  that  it  was  the  dream 
of  her  life  to  be  able  to  do  so  some  day,  and 
that  she  should  tease  Mr.  Merriton  to  death 
by  asking  him  all  sorts  of  questions  on  the 
subject,  and  all  sorts  of  assistance  in  her  dif- 
ficulties with  her  Italian  studies. 

And  so  Mr.  Merriton  was  then  and  there 
inextricably  lassoed,  and  captured  on  the 
spot. 

In  the  comfortable,  well-appointed  carriage 
which  conveyed  Mr.  Falconer  and  his  son  to 
their  home  in  Silverton,  a  few  words  passed 
before  the  senior  composed  himself  to  sleep, 
which  it  may  be  as  well  for  the  purposes  of 
this  history  to  record. 

"  I  was  not  so  hard  at  it  with  the  doctor 
— who  upon  some  points  is  the  wrongest- 
headed  man  I  ever  knew — at  my  end  of  the 
table  as  not  to  have  observed  that  you  were 
making  up  to  Miss  Merrikon  very  assiduously 
at  the  other,"  said  the  father. 

"  She  seems  a  ladylike,  agreeable  girl 
enough,  though  very  shy,"  answered  Mr. 
Frederick. 

"  Yes,  I  dare  say.  But  you  will  do  well, 
Fred,  to  remember  that  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  falling  to  the  ground  between  two  stools. 
What  do  you  supposeMiss  Lindisfarn  thought 
of  your  very  evident  flirtation?  " 

"  There  are  two  Miss  Lindisfarns  now." 

"Yes,  more's  the  pity!     If  these  French 


people — what's  their  name?- 


.INDISFARN 

had  not  gone 
the  wrong  side  of  the  post,  it  would  have 
been  on  the  cards  that  the  squire  might  have 
been  persuaded  not  to  divide  the  property  ; 
seeing  that  Miss  Margaret  would  have  been 
amply  jirovided  for.  But  now  ! — it  is  a  thou- 
sand pities  !  " 

"  Ay  !  the  Lindisfarn  property  as  it  stands 
is  a  very  pretty  thing  indeed— a  prize  for  any 
man." 

"//rtZ/'of  it  is  a  prize  for  any  man,  you  mean 
— for  any  man  who  can  win  the  hand  of  either 
of  the  young  ladies." 

"I  only  meant  that  the  property  is  one 
which  any  man  might  he  proud  to  be. at  the 
head  of." 

"  And  if  any  man  were  to  marry  one  of  the 
heiresses,  who  had  a  command  of  ready  cash 
equal  to  the  share  coming  to  the  other  of 
them, — who  knows  what  arrangments  might 
be  made  to  prevent  the  splitting  or  selling  of 
the  estate?  "  observed  the  old  banker. 

"What  is  Miss  Merriton's  fortune?" 
p.sked  his  son. 

"  Miss  Merriton  has  twenty-five  thousand 
pounds  in  her  own  absolute  disposition," 
replied  the  senior,  uttering  the  words  slowly 
and  deliberately;  "but  what  is  that  to  the 
half  of  the  Liuuiofdiu  property?  " 

"  It  is  about  one  thousand  a  year  instead 
of  about  two  thousand,"  said  Mr.  Frederick. 
"  Exactly  so,"  said  his  father  ;  "  to  which 
it  may  be  added  that  Miss  Kate  Lindisfarn 
hasher  godmother's  sis  thousand  pounds." 
"  Which  would  very  likely  be  conditional 
on  the  young  lady  marrying  with  her  god- 
mother's consent,  seeing  that  it  is  not  set- 
tled money,"  returned  the  young  man. 

"  Possibly,  but  I  should  say  not  likely," 
replied  his  father.  "  Besides,  Fred,  I  im- 
agined that  you  had  reason  to  think  that  you 
did  not  stand  badly  with  Miss  Kate  ;  and 
this  newly  arrived  young  lady" — 

"  Well,  sir,"  returned  his  son,  after  a 
pause,  "  to  speak  out  frankly,  and  make  no 
secrets  between  us,  this  is  the  state  of  the 
case.  Kate  is  a  charming  girl.  Nobody  can 
feel  that  more  strongly  than  I  do.  And  it 
may  be,  as  you  say,  that  I  may  have  reason  to 
flatter  myself  that  I  am  not  disagreeable  to 
her.  But  there  is  another  lady  in  the  case, 
with  whom  I  do  not  flatter  myself  that  I 
stand  at  all  well.  In  a  word,  I  am  quite 
sure  that  if  Lady  Farnleigh  can  keep  me  and 
Kate  asunder  she  will   do  so;  and  I  fear 


CHASE.  61 

tliat  she  may  have  the  power  to  do  it.  Kate  is 
very  much  under  her  influence.  Now  there 
can  be  no  doubt  at  all  that  Miss  Margaret 
Lindisfixrn  is  also  an  exceedingly  charming 
girl, — to  my  thinking  even  more  fascinating 
perhaps  than  her  sister, — and  you  can  easily 
understand,  sir,  that  under-  these  circum- 
stances it  may  be  well  to  have  two  strings  to 
one's  bow." 

"  That's  all  very  well,"  said  the  old  gen- 
tleman. "And  now  I  will  tell  you  with 
equal  frankness  what  seems  to  mc  the  state 
of  the  case.  In  the  first  place,  when  I  was  a 
young  fellow,  I  do  not  think  I  should  have 
allowed  very  much  weight  to  the  prejudices 
of  a  godmarama  in  such  a  matter.  In  the 
next  place,  bear  this  in  mind  :  that  though 
either  of  Mr.  Lindisfarn's  daughters  may  be 
considered  a  desirable — a rery desirable  match, 
there  are  reasons  for  considering  Miss  Kate, 
the  more  desirable  of  the  two.  Not  to 
of  Lady  Farnleigh 's  six  thousand  pound 
though  that  would  be  a  very  comfortable  as- 
sistance in  any  scheme  for  obtaining  the  en- 
tire property, — I  think  that  it  would  be  far 
more  possible  to  persuade  the  old  squire  to 
leave  the  acres  and  the  old  house  to  Kate, 
with  a  due  sum  of  money  equivalent  to  Mar- 
garet, than  vice  versa,  and  very  naturally  so. 
And  to  speak  with  perfect  frankness,  my 
dear  boy,  that  is  the  stake  to  play  for.  It  is 
not  merely  the  money,  though  a  good  match 
is  a  good  match  ;  and  either  of  these  young 
ladies  would  be  a  very  good  match.  But, 
thank  God,  I  shall  leave  you  in  a  position 
which  makes  a  good  match  what  you  may 
naturally  look  to.  But  to  be  Falconer  of 
Lindisfiirn  Chase  —  that  would  be  a  thing 
worth  trying  for  !  such  a  position  in  the 
county  !  In  fact,  I  don't  mind  owning  that  I 
could  quit  the  scene  with  perfect  contentment, 
if  I  could  live  to  see  you  established  in  such 
a  position.  Nor  do  I  mind  saying  that — sup- 
posing, as  I  have  no  doubt,  that  you  and  I 
go  on  together  as  well  as  we  always  have 
done — the  ready  cash,  which  would  suffice  to 
buy  one-half  of  the  property,  should  not  be 
wanting,  if  you  should  ever  be  lucky  enough 
to  need  it.  As  for  Miss  Merriton,  though  all 
very  well  in  the  way  of  a  match,  slie  is  not 
to  be  mentioned  in  the  same  day  with  either 
of  the  Lindisfarn  girls,  and  no  great  catch 
for  you  in  any  way.  And  now,  my  dear  boy, 
if  you'll  allow  me,  I'll  go  to  sleep  till  we  get 
to  Silver  ton." 


62 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


And  so  Freddy  meditated  during  the  re- 
mainder of  the  short  journey  on  the  words  of 
paternal  wisdom  which  he  had  heard. 

At  the  Ciiase,  the  squire  and  Miss  Immy 
went  off  to  their  respective  chambers  as  soon 
as  ever  the  last  of  their  guests  was  gone. 
Mr.  Mat  walked  out  muttering  something 
about  seeing  all  safe  ;  but  if  the  whole  truth 
is  absolutely  to  be  told,  he  went  and  smoked 
a  pipe  in  the  stable  before  going  to  bed. 

The  two  girls  went  up  to  their  adjoining 
rooms,  but  could  hardly  I)e  expected  to  go  to  bed 
ti  11  they  had ,  at  least  compendiously ,  compared 
notes  as  to  their  impressions  during  the  even- 
ing. 

Margaret  made  no  allusion  to  her  anti- 
quarian trials,  nor  to  the  projected  visit  to  the 
Friary.  The  invitation  of  Captain  Ellingham 
was  talked  of,-  and  a  more  mature  considera- 
tion of  it  deferred  till  the  morrow,  on  ac- 
count of  the  lateness  of  the  hour  to  which 
the  debate  had  already  lasted.  The  most  in- 
teresting part  of  the  conversation,  however,  of 
course  turned  on  the  diflerent  estimates  formed 
by  the  two  girls  of  their  new  acquaintances. 
But  without  reporting  at  length  all  the  chat- 
ter of  agreement,  disagreement,  and  compari- 
son of  notes,  which  went  to  the  expression  of 
their  opinions,  the  net  result  may  be  summed 
up  with  tolerable  accuracy  thus  : — 

Margaret  declared  that  JNIr  Merriton  was 
an  exceedingly  agreeable  man,  evidently  highly 
instructed,  very  gentlemanlike,  certainly  very 
handsome,  and  unquestionably  the  nicest  of 
the  three  young  men  of  the  party.  Mr.  Fred- 
erick Falconer  was  very  handsome  and  very 
nice  too.  Captain  Ellingham  she  could  see 
nothing  to  like  in  at  all,  except  his  invita- 
tion to  go  on  board  his  ship,  which  would  be 
charming,  as  the  others  were  all  invited. 

Kate  said,  on  the  contrary,  that  she  had 
been  much  pleased  with  all  she  had  seen  of  Cap- 
tain Ellingham  ;  that,  of  course,  as  far  as  I 
likin"-  went,  she  could  not  be  expected  to  like  | 
him  'so  well  as  her  old  friend,  Freddy  Fal-  | 
coner ;  and  as  for  ]\Ir.  ISIerriton,  he  had 
seemed  to  her  very  good-natured,  but  more 
like  a  schoolboy  who  was  a  rather  girlish  one 
than  like  a  man. 

And  60   ended  the  dinner-party  at  the 
Chase. 

CHAPTER   XI. 
MU.   MERRITON   TAYS   SOME  VISITS. 

What  with  the  talk  about  the  proposed  sail- 
ing excursion  under  Captain  EUingham's  aus- 


pices, and  what  with  the  calamity  of  the 
iearned  canon's  brick,  nothing  had  been  set- 
tled on  the  evening  of  the  party  at  the  Chase 
about  the  visit  of  Margaret  and  her  uncle  to 
the  Friary.  Margaret  had  been  as  careful  to 
make  her  communication  to  Mr.  Merriton  on 
that  subject  private  and  confidential  as  she 
had  been,  when  spoken  to  by  Captain  Elling- 
ham respecting  the  sailing  project,  to  make 
all  present  parties  to  the  conversation.  She 
had  also  avoided  saying  one  word  about  any 
such  idea  to  Kate.  And  her  project  was  to 
find  the  means  of  availing  herself  of  Lady 


tiempronia's  invitation  to  the  house  in  the 
Close,  and  to  go  with  her  uncle  thence  to  the 
Friary,  so  as  to  have  the  visit,  and  the  oppor- 
tunity all  to  herself. 

All  her  scheme  was  foiled,  however,  by 
Mr.  jMerriton,  as  is  apt  to  be  the  case  when 
two  parties  to  an  arrangement  do  not  desire 
precisely  the  same  results  from  it.  j\lr.  Mer- 
riton liked  the  idea  of  bringing  some  of  his 
new  neighbors  together  under  his  roof  on  the 
occasion  which  had  been  thus  prepared  for 
him.  It  saved  him  from  the  necessity  of 
taking  the  more  decided  and  self-asserting 
step  of  inviting  them  on  no  other  plea  than 
the  simple  one  of  coming  to  pay  him  an  oi*- 
dinary  visit.  It  made  a  reason  for  their  be- 
ing there ;  and  if  the  gathering  were  made 
to  grow  out  of  what  Margaret  had  said  to 
him  at  dinner,  the  great  point  would  be 
gained  of  throwing  mainly  on  Dr.  Lindisfarn 
the  onus  and  responsibility  of  finding  amuse- 
ment or  employment  for  the  people  when  they 
were  there. 

Besides  that,  IMr.  Merriton  began  to  feel 
very  strongly  that  the  only  part  of  such  a 
plan  which  could  i  Jbrd  any  gratification  to 
himself,  would  be  lost  if  Kate  were  not  to  be 
of  the  party. 

So  on  the  following  morning  the  new  mas- 
ter of  the  Friary  ordered  his  phaeton — Mr. 
iMerriton  had  passed  too  large  a  portion  of 
his  life  abroad  to  be  much  of  an  equestrian— 
with  the  intention  of  driving,  or  being  driven, 
rather,  over  to  Wanstrow.  Lady  Farnleigh 
had  very  graciously  and  kindly  made  ac- 
quaintance both  with  him  and  with  his  sis- 
ter on  the  previous  evening  ;  and  it  was  ab- 
solutely necessary  to  go  and  call  on  her. 

The  house  and  grounds  of  the  Friary  were 
close  to  almost  in  the  village  of  Weston, 
which  was  surnamed  from  the  ancient  mo- 
nastic establishment.    And  Weston  was  situ- 


LINDISFARN     CHASE. 


ntod,  as  has  been  eaid,  in  the  valley  ul"  the 
Sill,  about  two  miles  above  Silvcrton  Bridge, 
at  a  bend  in  the  river  just  about  the  spot 
where  the  widening  of  the  valley  has  given 
rise  to  the  creation  of  a  system  of  water- 
meads.  These  water-meadows  fill  the  whole 
bottom  of  the  valley  all  the  way  from  Wes- 
ton to  Silverton,  lying  on  the  right-hand  side 
of  the  river,  as  one  pursued  its  course  for  the 
two  miles  to  Silverton,  and  the  five  more  that 
remained  of  it  before  it  fell  into  the  sea  at 
Sillmouth.  The  road  ran  along  the  left-hand 
side  of  the  valley,  at  a  somewhat  higher  ele- 
vation than  that  of  the  water-meads  ;  and  the 
river  ran  between  the  road  and  the  meadows, 
dammed  up  to  a  level  a  little  above  that  of 
the  latter.  The  bend  in  the  river  at  Weston 
was  to  the  right  hand  of  one  following  the 
stream  of  it ;  turning  the  upper  part  of  its 
course,  therefore,  toward  the  Wanstrow  and 
away  from  the  Lindisfarn  side  of  tiie  country. 
And  the  village,  with  its  pretty  spired  church, 
stood  on  the  left  bank,  on  the  outside  of  the 
elbow  of  the  bend  of  the  river,  and  was  vis- 
ible from  Silverton  Bridge  :  whereas  the  an- 
cient Friary  itself,  and  accordingly  Mr.  Mer- 
riton's  house  and  grounds,  were  on  the  right 
bank,  enclosed  within  the  elbow  of  the  stream, 
and  were  not  visible  from  any  part  of  the 
city. 

Indeed  the  house  was  not  visible,  or  scarcely 
at  all  visible,  from  the  village  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  stream,  it  was  so  completely 
embowered  in  trees ;  and  in  one  direction 
partially  hidden  by  a  jutting  limestone  cliff. 


63 

The  limestone  cliff,  which  has  been  men- 
tioned, and  which  just  at  that  turning-point 
of  the  stream  has  been  denuded  by  the  ac- 
tion of  the  river,  and  ris^a  1 1  Mbout  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet  in  heiglu  s  there  a  feature 
of  very  considerable  beautyi  n  the  landscape. 
It  is  entirely  and  most  richly  covered  with 
ivy  and  creeping  plants  of  many  kinds,  hang- 
ing in  groat  festoons,  and  which,  availing 
themselves  of  every  projection  or  inequality 
in  the  fixce  of  the  rock  to  mass  themselves 
around  it,  make  it  the  savings-bank  for  a 
gradually  and  slowly-increasing  treasure  of 
gathered  soil,  and  then  root  themselves  afi'esh 
for  a  new  start  in  the  hoard  thus  collected. 
Close  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff  runs  the  river, 
which,  as  soon  as  ever  it  has  got  round  it, 
slackens  its  speed,  widens  its  course,  and 
having  jiassed  its  tussle  with  that  hard  lime- 
stone opponent,  goes  more  lazily,  quietly,  and 
smilingly,  to  the  peaceful  work  of  irrigating 
the  water-meads. 

There  are  no  water-meads  above  the  bend 
in  the  river  and  the  limestone  cliff.  The 
character  of  the  upper  part  of  the  valley  is  a 
different  one.  And  I  have  sometimes  felfc  in- 
clined to  regret  that  there  is  no  view  of  the 
two-mile  vista  of  water-meadows,  with  Silver- 
ton  at  the  end  of  them,  from  the  Friary.  The 
cliff,  which  shuts  out  this  view,  is  in  itself  a 
great  beauty  ;  and  one  cannot  have  every- 
thing. Above  Weston  the  tillage  comes  down 
nearer  to  the  river,  on  the  Lindisfarn  side, 
leaving  only  a  narrow  strip  of  meadow,  which 
is  not  Avater-mead,  but  pasture  land.    On  the 


which  had  been  evidently,  even  to  non-gco-  j  Wanstrow  side, — the  side  on  which  the  Fri- 


logical  eyes,  the  cause  of  the  sudden  change 
of  direction  in  the  river's  course  at  Weston. 
On  the  Lindisfarn  and  Silverton  side  of  the 
river  the  color  of  the  soil  was  red  ;  but  on 
the  Wanstrow  side  the  limestone,  which 
seemed  to  form  the  substructure,  and  to  con- 
stitute the  prevailing  ingredient  in  the  sur- 


ary  is, — the  same  limestone  formation,  though 
not  rising  to  the  same  height,  nor  rising 
with  the  same  degree  of  precipitousness,  as 
it  does  to  form  the  cliff,  shuts  in  the  valley 
for  a  few  miles,  making  the  rise  from  it  ex- 
ceedingly steep.  On  this  side  the  space  of 
pasture  ground   between  the  river  and  this 


face  soil  of  tlie  district,  gave  that  side  of  the  |  rapid  rise  is  wider.  This  was  the  home  farm 
country  a  paler,  grayer,  less  rich  and  less  '  of  the  old  monastery,  and  now  forms  the  park 
picturesque  look  than  that  for  which  the  Lin-  attached  to  the  residence.  The  high  bank, 
disfarn  side  was  so  remarkable.  The  Wan-  which  has  been  described  as  shutting  this 
strow  side  was  also  much  more  sparsely  ground  in,  and  which  is,  in  fact,  the  prolon- 
wooded.  gation  of  the  limestone  cliff  that  a  little  lower 

But  these  remarks,  which  apply  to  all  that :  down  turns  the  river,  is  entirely  covered  with 
district  on  the  left  bank  of  the  river  as  soon  |  thick  wood  ;— not  with  such  magnificent  forest 
as  ever  the  valley  of  the  Sill  is  left  and  the  j  as  clothes  the  top  of  Lindisfarn  brow  ;  but 
upper  ground  reached,  are  not  applicable  to  with  trees  of  very  respectable  bulk  and 
the  valley  itself,  to  Weston,  or  to  the  Friary  growth,  amply  suflScient  to  shut  in  the  Friary 
grounds.  ;  park  with  a  very  beautiful  boundary,  and  to 


64 


exempt  it  entirely  from  that  somewhat  colder 
and  bleaker  look  which  the  country  assumes 
as  soon  as  the  valley  has  been  left,  and  the 
Wanstrow  upper  grounds  approached. 

Mr.  Merriton's  way  from  the  Friary  to 
Wanstrow  crossed  the  Sill  twice  at  starting. 
There  is  indeed  a  road  which  climbs  the  bank 
that  has  just  been  described,  piercing  the 
coppice  which  covers  it.  But  it  is  a  mere 
cart-lane,  and  exceedingly  steep.  The  cliff 
which  has  been  so  often  mentioned  opposes 
an  insuperable  barrier  to  all  progress  down 
the  valley  on  the  Friary  side  of  the  stream  ; 
so'that  it  is  necessary  for  any  one  who  would 
go  otherwise  than  on  two  legs  or  on  four  from 
the  Friary  to  the  upper  country  behind  the 
bank  and  the  woods  and  the  cliff  which 
hem  it  in,  first  to  cross  the  Sill  by  a  bridge 
which  is  the  private  property  of  the  owner 
of  the  Friary,  and  then,  after  passing  through 
the  village,  to  recross  it  by  the  bridge  which 
has  been  mentioned  in  a  former  chapter  as 
forming  a  part  of  the  pleasanter  though 
longer  of  the  two  routes  between  Wanstrow 
and  Lindisfarn  Chase.  On  the  lower  side  of 
the  cliff,  which  shuts  off  the  upper  from  the 
lower  valley  of  the  Sill, — on  the  side  of  the 
water-meads  and  off  Silverton,  that  is  to  say, 
— the  land  rises  from  the  river  to  the  Wan- 
strow high  grounds  much  moi-e  gradually. 

By  this  road,  therefore,  Mr.  ]\Ierriton  pro- 
ceeded in  his  phaeton,  lolling  comfortably 
back  in  one  corner  of  the  luxurious  vehicle, 
but  occupied  more  with  thinking  about  how 
and  what  he  should  say  to  Lady  Farnleigh, 
than  with  enjoying  the  beauty  of  his  drive. 

This  became  less  as  he  left  the  valley  of 
the  Sill  behind  him,  and  climbed  to  the  more 
open  downlike  region  of  the  limestone  hills. 
The  Wanstrow  farms  were  well  cultivated, 
and  there  was  much  to  gladden  the  eye  of  an 
agriculturist  in  the  district  through  which 
the  road  passed.  But  it  not  only  looked  but 
felt  bleaker  as  the  upper  ground  was  reached, 
and  Mr.  Merriton  with  a  shiver  put  on  a 
cloak  which  had  been  lying  on  the  seat  be- 
side him. 

It  was  almost  all,  more  or  less,  collar  work 
from  the  bridge  over  the  Sill,  to  the  lodge 
gates  of  Wanstrow  Manor,  a  distance  of  about 
five  miles.  The  park  in  which  the  house 
stands  is  of  considerable  extent,  and  not  alto- 
gether devoid  of  fine  timber  in  widely  scat- 
tered groups.  But  it  is  very  different  from 
the  richly  wooded  country  on  the  other  side 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


of  the  valley  around  Lindisfarn.  Immedi- 
ately behind  the  house,  which  is  situated  on 
the  highest  swell  of  the  open,  downlike  hill, 
there  is  rather  more  wood,  serving  to  give  it 
a  little  of  the  shelter  it  so  much  needs,  from 
the  north.  But  it  is  little  more  than  a  large 
clump  of  elms.  The  house  is  a  modern  one, 
of  very  considerable  pretension,  and  con- 
taining far  more  accommodation  than  its 
present  single  inhabitant  needed  or  could 
occupy.  But  the  only  special  beauty  or 
recommendation  belonging  to  it  is  its  south- 
ward view  of  the  coast  and  the  sea.  The 
village  and  little  port  of  Sillmouth  are  visi- 
ble from  it,  as  well  as  a  considerable  extent 
of  the  coast-line  on  the  further  or  Silverton 
side  of  the  estuary,  comprising  those  sands 
over  which  Kate  had  had  her  gallop  on  the 
day  of  the  dinner-party  at  the  Chase.  The 
shore  on  the  other  or  Wanstrow  side  cannot 
be  seen  from  the  house,  because,  though  in 
fact  nearer  to  it  as  the  crow  flies,  it  is  hid- 
den under  the  limestone  cliffs  which  rise  from 
the  shore  to  the  eastward  of  Sillmouth.  The 
sea-view  from  the  house  beyond,  and  to  the 
westward  of  that  little  port,  is  a  distant  one  ; 
but  not  too  much  so  for  it  to  bo  possible  to 
see  the  white  line  of  the  breakers  as  they 
tumble  in  on  the  sands  at  low  water,  and  on 
a  black,  sea-weed-mottled  line  of  low  rocks 
when  the  tide  is  at  its  highest. 

Lady  Farnleigh  was  mostly  Kate's  com- 
panion in  her  rides  on  the  Sillmouth  sands ; 
but  she  used  to  say,  that  on  occasions  when 
she  was  not  so,  she  could  equally  well  see 
all  that  her  goddaughter  was  doing  from  her 
drawing-room  windows,  by  the  aid  of  a  good 
telescope. 

The  sea  is  visible  from  the  road  through 
Wanstrow  Park  for  a  mile  or  so  before  the 
house  is  reached  ;  and  Mr.  Merriton,  whose 
Italian-grown  nerves  were  very  quickly  made 
sensible  that  it  could  be  felt  as  soon  as  seen, 
drew  his  cloak  closer  about  him,  as  he  con- 
gratulated himself  on  the  very  remarkable 
difference  of  climate  between  the  snuggery 
of  the  Friary  and  the  magnificence  of  Wan- 
strow Manor. 

There  was  a  garden  on  the  west  side  of  the 
house  which  was  in  part  sheltered  by  it,  and 
which  partook  of  the  protection  afforded  by 
the  high  trees  behind  it.  And  Lady  Farn- 
leigh used  to  do  her  best  to  make  it  pretty 
and  fragrant ;  but  she  declared  that  it  was 
a  pursuit  of  horticulture  under  diliiculties 


LINDISFARN    CHASE.  65 

which  "were  almost  too  discouraging  ;    and  |  ent  from  that  of  your  valley  as  the  north  -of 


often,  when  comparing  the  gardens  at  the 
Chase  with  her  own  infelicitous  attempts, 
would  threaten  to  give  up  the  struggle  alto- 
gether, and  depend  wholly  for  her  flowers  on 
supplies  from  Lindisfarn. 

She  was  in  this  garden,  lamenting  the  mis- 
chief that  had  been  caused  by  the  high  wind 
of  the  day  before,  and  ti-ying  to  devise  with 
the  gardener  new  means  of  shelter  for  some 
of  her  more  delicate  favorites,  when  Mr. 
Merriton  arrived.  lie  was  shown  into  the 
drawing-room  ;  and  the  servant,  finding  that 
her  ladyship  was  not  there,  preceded  him 
througli  the  open  window  into  the  garden. 

"  How  kind  of  you,"  she  said,  after  they  had 
gi'eeted  each  other,  "  to  come  up  out  of  your 
happy  valley  to  visit  these  inhospitable  moun- 
tains !  Look  what  the  storm  of  yesterday 
has  done  ;  and  at  the  Friary  I  dare  say  you 
hardly  felt  it  it  all.  Our  friends  at  Lindis- 
farn  hear  the  wind  up  in  the  woods  above 
them  just  enough  to  make  them  rejoice  in  the 
comfort  of  their  sheltered  position.  You  at 
the  Friary  neither  feel  nor  hear  it.  But  here 
we  are  in  a  different  climate.  Look  at  my 
poor  geraniums  !  " 

"  Even  to-day  I  felt  the  wind  sharp  enough 
as  1  drove  through  the  park.  But  at  all 
events,  Lady  Farnleigh,  you  have  the  com- 
pensation of  a  magnificent  view  !  Really  the 
position  of  the  house  is  a  very  fine  one.  The 
park  seems  to  extend  nearly — or  quite,  does 
it? — to  the  coast." 

"Yes,  I  am  monarch  of  all  I  survey  up 
here  (except  the  sea  by  the  by),  and  my 
right  there  is  none  to  dispute,  except  this 
terrible  southwest  wind  :  and  Captain  El- 
lingham  says  we  are  going  to  have  more  of 
it." 

"  Raison  de  plus  that  you  should  kindly  ac- 
cede to  a  request  I  bring  from  my  sister,  that 
you  will  join  our  friends  at  the  Chase  in  pass- 
ing a  day  at  the  Friary.  My  sister  would 
have  accompanied  me  to  wait  on  your  lady- 
ship ;  but  she  is  very  delicate,  unhappily,  and 
was  really  afraid  of  the  drive  this  morning. 
Perhaps  you  will  kindly  accord  her  an  inva- 
lid's privilege,  and  take  the  will  for  the 
deed." 

"  By  no  means  let  Miss  !Merriton  come  up 
here  as  long  as  this  wind  is  blowing.  I  shall 
be  delighted  to  see  her  as  soon  as  I  can  say. 
Come !  without  the  fear  of  exposing  her  to 
the  climate,  which  is,  joking  apart,  as  differ- 

5 


England  is  from  the  south.  I  shall  have  great 
pleasure  in  coming  down  to  the  Friary,  I  am 
sure." 

"  It  seems  that  Dr.  Lindisfarn  had  pur- 
posed bringing  Miss  Margaret,  who  takes  an 
interest  in  such  things,  to  the  Friary  to  ex- 
plain to  her  all  about  the  old  monastery,  you 
know,  and  the  traces  of  the  ancient  building 
which  yet  remain." 

"  Miss  Margaret  takes  an  interest  in  such 
studies  ;  does  she?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Merriton,  quite  inno- 
cently ;  "  she  was  speaking  to  me  about  it 
at  dinner  yesterday,  and  I  intended  asking 
the  doctor  after  dinner ;  but  then  we  were 
all  occupied  with  other  things,  and  I  had  no 
opportunity.  And  then  Emily  and  I  thought 
it  would  be  much  pleasanter  if  we  could  in- 
duce the  others  of  the  party  to  join  in  the 
scheme,  and  share  the  benefit  of  the  doctor's 
explanations." 

•'  Delightful  !  I  shall  like  it  above  all 
things.  We  will  have  a  regular  matinee 
archeologique ! ' ' 

"  I  hoped  to  have  found  Captain  Ellingham 
here,  that  I  might  have  pei'suaded  him  to  join 
us." 

"  He  is  gone  down  to  Sillmouth  to  look 
after  his  ship.  He  will  be  here  to  dinner  this 
evening,  and  I  shall  have  much  pleasure  in 
conveying  your  invitation  to  him.  But  when 
is  it  to  be?  " 

"  Well,  any  day  that  would  be  most  con- 
venient to  all  of  us.  Perhaps,  as  he  is  the 
only  one  who  is  likely  to  have  avocations  that 
might  absolutely  make  any  day  impossible  to 
him,  it  would  be  as  well  to  consult  him  first 
on  that  head." 

"You  are  very  kind ;  and  I  am  sure  he 
will  feel  it  so." 

"  Would  you  kindly  undertake  then  to  fix 
a  day  with  him  ?  It  is  a  pity  I  did  not  find 
him  though  ;  for  I  meant  to  have  returned 
through  Silverton,  and  fixed  the  day  with  the 
rest  of  the  party  ;  but  I  shall  not  know  what 
day  to  tell  them." 

"  ril  tell  you,  Mr.  Merriton,  what  I  can 
do  for  you,  which  would  facilitate  matters.  I 
had  intended  to  have  asked  all  our  little  cir- 
cle to  spend  a  day  with  me  up  here.  And  I, 
too,  thought  I  had  better  make  sure  of  Cap- 
tain Ellingham  for  the  same  reason  that  you 
have  given.  And  we  fixed  this  morning  on 
next  Wednesday.    Now  I  will  give  up  Wed- 


66 

nesday  to  you  ;  so  you  wili  be  sure  of  EUing- 
ham  for  that  day.  And  it  will  be  better,  too, 
for  all  concerned  to  come  to  me  when  this  ter- 
rible wind  shall  have  changed.  If  that  will 
suit  you,  you  are  welcome  to  Wednesday." 

"  How  very  kind  of  you  !  Yes,  that  would 
suit  us  perfectly.  Will  you  then  kindly 
charge  yourself  with  my  message  to  Captain 
Ellingham  ?  We  hope  to  see  him  on  Wed- 
nesday, and  would  have  fixed  some  other  day, 
if  you  had  not  kindly  given  me  the  means  of 
knowing  that  that  day  would  suit  him." 

"With  pleasure;  and  I  am  sure  he  will 
have  great  pleasure   in  coming  to  you." 

"  We  ought  not  to  be  later  than  one 
o'clock.  There  are  plenty  of  old  holes  and 
corners  to  look  into.  There  is  a  queer  place 
at  the  further  end  of  the  park  by  the  river- 
side, which  they  call  the  Sill-grotto,  and 
which  they  say  was  once  a  chapel.  That 
will  have  to  be  visited,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Of  course  it  will.  Dr.  Lindisfarn  will 
not  let  you  off  a  single  bit  of  old  wall,  or  a 
single  fragment  of  old  tradition  about  the 
place.  No  ;  one  o'clock  will  not  be  too  early, 
if  the  doctor  is  to  be  allowed  a  fair  course 
and  no  favor." 

"  Let  it  stand  for  one  then.  I  am  so  much 
obliged  to  you.  Lady  Farnleigh." 

And  then  Mr.  Merriton  got  into  his  car- 
riage and  drove  to  Silverton.  His  purpose 
had  been  to  call  "first  on  the  canon,  as  the 
first  idea  of  the  party  had  in  some  sort  origi- 
nated with  him.  But  it  was  the  hour  of  the 
afternoon  cathedral  service  when  he  arrived 
in  the  city,  and  the  doctor  was  in  church. 

So  he  went  first  to  the  banker's  house  in 
the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  Close  ; 
and  there,  banking  hours  being  over,  he  found 
the  old  gentleman  in  his  learned-looking  li- 
brary, solacing  himself  after  the  labors  of 
the  ledger  with  more  liberal  studies. 

"  Can't  well  be  with  you  by  one,"  said 
Mr.  Falconer,  when  he  had  heard  his  visitor's 
errand.  "  Business  first,  you  know,  and 
pleasure  afterward.  I  can  get  away,  per- 
haps, in  time  to  be  with  you  by  three.  Fred 
will  not  fail  you  at  the  earlier  hour  ; — not  a 
doubt  of  it,  bearing  in  mind  the  attractions 
you  hold  out  to  him  !  He  has  ridden  over  to 
Lindisfarn  now.  I  will  give  him  your  invi- 
tation, and  think  I  may  venture  to  say  that 
he  will  be  only  too  happy  to  accept  it." 

"  You  are  intimate  with  the  family  at  the 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


Chase,  I  believe,  Mr.  Falconer?  "  asked  Mr. 
Merriton,  thoughtfully. 

"  Oh,  of  course  !  Naturally  so.  We  have 
been  life-long  neighbors,  and  that  in  a  country 
neighborhood  makes  a  tie  that  it  does  not  al- 
ways in  cities.  Fred  and  Kate  Lindisfarn 
have  grown  up  from  childhood  together. 
And  naturally  enough  they  are  very  great 
friends,"  said  the  old  banker,  looking  up 
into  his  guest's  face  with  a  knowing  glance 
and  smile,  which  were  intended  to  insinuate 
what  he  did  not  venture  to  assert  in  words. 
"  That  is  all  as  might  naturally  be  expected, 
you  know,"  he  continued;  "and  1  think  I 
may  venture  to  promise  you  that  when  I  tell 
Fred  who  the  members  of  your  party  are,  he 
will  be  punctual  enough  in  Availing  on  you." 

Mr.  Merriton  was  much  too  young  and  too 
guileless  a  man  to  be  able  to  conceal  from  the 
shrewd  eye  of  the  old  banker  the  annoyance 
that  the  impressions  thus  conveyed  to  him 
inflicted  on  him.  The  old  man  saw  the  state 
of  the  case  perfectly  well.  "Oh!  that's  it : 
is  it?  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  The  more  ne- 
cessary to  let  him  understand  that  Miss  Kate 
is  not  destined  to  be  his.  It  will  be  as  well  to 
give  Fred  a  hint  too." 

"  Well,"  said  the  young  man  somewhat 
sadly, "  I  must  go  and  do  the  rest  of  my  er- 
rand in  Silverton.  I  have  to  ask  Dr.  Lin- 
disfarn. And  oh,  by  the  by  !  you  can  tell 
me,  Mr.  Falconer  ;  ought  I  to  ask  Lady  Sem- 
pronia?     Does  she  ever  go  out?  " 

"  Ah — h  !  You  are  going  to  ask  the  doc- 
tor ;  are  you  ?  Yes,  naturally — naturally  ; 
of  course  you  would.  You  can't  well  do 
otherwise." 

"  Oh,  I  had  no  thought  of  leaving  him  out ; 
it  was  Lady  Sempronia  that  I  was  in  doubt 
about.  The  whole  ideaof  the  thing  began  with 
the  doctor,  I  may  say.  He  is  to  give  us  an  ex- 
planation of  all  the  history  and  antiquities 
of  the  old  place  !  " 

"Ah!  I  see.  I  see  it  all.  Yes;  he  will 
give  you  the  history,  never  fear  ;  all  after  his 
own  fashion  too  !  " 

"  I  thought  you  and  Dr.  Lindisfarn  were 
great  friends?  "  said  Mr.  Merriton,  innocently, 
and  much  surprised  at  the  spitefulness  of  the 
old  banker's  manner. 

"  Friends  !  Dr.  Lindisfarn  and  I !  To  be 
sure  we  are, — very  old  friends.  I  have  a  very 
great  regard  for  Canon  Lindisfarn  ;  he  is  a 
most  worthy  man.     But  that  does  not  blind 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


me  to  the  monstrosity  of  the  errors  his  wrong- 
hcadedness  and  obstinacy  often  run  him  into 
in  matters  of  archaeological  ecience.  Now  as 
regards  the  history — the  extremely  interest- 
ing history  of  your  property  of  the  Friary  ! — 
•it  is  sad, — really  now  quite  sad,  to  think  of 
the  number  of  blunders  that  he  will  circulate 
through  all  the  county  by  the  means  of  your 
party  next  Wednesday.  For  these  things 
spread,  my  dear  sir  !  They  are  repeated. 
False  notions  are  propagated.  They  run  un- 
der ground  like  couch-grass.  They  become 
traditional.  And  he  will  have  it  all  his  own 
way  ! — I'll  tell  you  what,  my  dear  sir,  I  must 
be  there  !  I  must  manage  to  be  with  you  some- 
how by  one  o'clock.  I'll  not  be  late,  my  dear 
Mr.  Merriton.     You  may  count  on  me." 

"So  much  the  better.  But  about  Lady 
Sempronia?"  said  Mr.  Merriton. 

"  Oh,  ask  her,  by  all  means.  She  goes 
out  very  little,  and  will  probably  not  come  ; 
but  you  can  ask  her,  you  know.  She  is  a 
poor  inoffensive,  invalid  woman,  but  I  have 
known  her  uncommonly  shrewd  sometimes 
in  seeing  through  some  of  her  husband's  falla- 
cies, when  more  learned  people  have  been 
led  astray  by  them.  She  is  no  fool,  is  Lady 
Sempronia.     Ask  her  by  all  means." 

So  ^Ir.  Merriton  stepped  across  to  the  can- 
on's house, — the  distance  was  too  small  to 
make  it  worth  while  for  him  to  get  into  his 
carriage, — devoutly  wishing  that  Mr.  Fi-ed- 
erick  Falconer  was  resting  after  life's  fitful 
fever  in  any  vault  of  the  old  church,  beneath 
the  shadow  of  which  he  was  walking,  a  son 
choix,  and  cursing  the  provoking  impossibility 
of  not  asking  him  to  join  the  party  at  the 
Friary. 

The  canon  had  just  returned  from  the  after- 
noon service,  and  had  gone  into  the  study. 
Mr.  Merriton  was  shown  into  that  room,  and 
found  the  doctor  engaged  in  transferring  his 
canonicals  from  his  own  shoulders  to  those  of 
his  wooden  representative. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Merriton  !  how  are  you?  Come 
in,  come  in  !  This  is  a  contrivance  of  mine 
to  prevent  me  from  forgetting  to  take  off  my 
surplice,  which  I  otherwise  was  apt  to  do !  " 

"  Ah,  having  your  head  full  of  more  im- 
portant things,  Dr.  Lindisfarn  !  Yes,  I  can 
understand  that.  I  came  to  speak  to  you 
about  the  visit  which  Miss  Margaret  Lindis- 
farn tells  me  you  were  good  enough  to  pur- 
pose making  with  her  to  my  house." 

"  Aha  !  the  little  puss  is  anxious  for  the 


67 

treat,  is  she?  You  would  be  surprised,  Mr. 
Merriton,  at  the  interest — the  intelligent 
interest,  I  may  say,  though  she  is  my  own 
niece — that  that  young  girl  takes  in  pursuits 
and  studies  which  some  frivolous  minds  are 
apt  to  consider  dry.  Yes,  1  had  proposed 
asking  your  permission  to  bring  Miss  Marga- 
ret to  the  Friary,  for  the  purpose  of  illustrat- 
ing to  her  on  the  spot  the  very  interesting 
history  of  the  house." 

"  And  when  she  mentioned  the  project  to 
me,  it  struck  me  and  my  sister  that  it  would 
be  a  great  pity  not  to  give  others  of  our 
friends  an  opportunity  of  profiting  by  the  oc- 
casion ;  and  we  have  asked  Lady  Farnleigh 
and  the  rest  of  the  party  at  the  Chase  to 
come  to  us  next  Wednesday.  May  we  hope 
to  see  you  on  that  day,  and  will  one  o'clock 
be  too  early  ? ' ' 

"  No  ;  you  are  very  good  ;  Wednesday  will 
suit  me  very  well.  There  is  the  afternoon 
service  at  the  cathedral,  to  be  sure  ;  but  in 
such  a  case — that  can  be  managed.  Do  you 
expect  all  the  party  at  the  Chase  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so.  I  have  only  secured  Lady 
Farnleigh,  Captain  EUingham,  the  Falconers, 
and  yourself.  I  will  go  up  to  them  at  the 
Chase  to-morrow." 

"  Falconer  will  not  be  able  to  come  to  you 
at  one  o'clock,  you  know.  He  cannot  get 
away  from  business  so  early  ;  and  perhaps, 
between  ourselves,  that  is  just  as  well.  The 
best  fellow  in  the  world.  Falconer  !  A  good, 
friendly  man.  But  he  has  a  mania  for  med- 
dling with  matters  that  are  quite  ultra  crepi- 
dam.  A  most  excellent  man  of  business! 
But  optat  ephippia  bos  pifjer !  you  understand, 
Mr.  Merriton.  And  my  friend  Falconer  does 
not  show  himself  to  advantage  in  the  ephip- 
pia !  Ay,  ay  !  You  may  depend  on  it,  I'll 
be  punctual  at  one.  And — under  all  the 
circumstances  it  would  be  very  desirable  that 
we  should  all  be  punctual  at  that  hour. 
Don't  you  see,  Mr,  Merriton?  " 

Mr.  Merriton  thought  that  he  did  see,  al- 
though he  had  not  the  remotest  idea  what 
place,  or  thing,  or  circumstance  that  ephippia 
was,  in  which  Mr.  Falconer  was  said  not  to 
shine.  Was  the  ephippia  perhaps  another 
name  for  the  Friary  ?  He  thought  he  saw, 
too,  that  it  was  best  to  say  nothing  of  Mr. 
Falconer's  determination  to  meet  his  enemy 
on  the  ground  at  all  costs.  So  he  merely  an- 
swered,— 

"  I  had  hoped  to  have  the  honor  of  being 


68 

presented  to  Lady  Sempronia,  and  to  have 
persuaded  her  to  join  our  party.' 

"  Her  ladyship,  I  grieve  to  say,  is  very 
much  of  an  invalid.  She  v?ill  be  most  happy, 
however,  to  make  acquaintance  vs-ith  you  and 
Miss  Merriton.  But  I  fear  she  would  hardly 
be  able  to  see  you  now  ;  and  I  do  not  think 
that  there  is  much  chance  of  her  feeling  well 
Enough  to  join  your  party  on  Wednesday.  I 
will  give  her  your  kind  message,  however." 

"  And  pray  say  that  were  it  not  that  my 
sister  is  also  much  of  an  invalid,  she  would 
have  returned  Lady  Sempronia's  card  in  per- 
son instead  of  deputing  me  to  do  so.  She 
hopes,  however,  to  be  able  to  come  into  Sil- 
verton  in  the  beginning  of  next  week,  and 
will  then  wait  on  Lady  Sempronia." 

And  then  Mr.  Merriton  drove  back  by  the 
road  along  the  edge  of  the  water-meadows  to 
the  Friary,  disconsolately  meditating  on  what 
he  had  heard  from  Mr.  Falconer  respecting 
his  son's  intimacy  at  the  Chase.  For  Mer- 
riton had  brought  away  with  him  thence  a 
very  severe  wound  ;  and  h(erit  latiri  letalis 
arundo ! 

"Well,  Arthur,"  said  Miss  Merriton,  as 
he  entered  the  drawing-room  at  the  Friary 
ready  for  dinner,  "  what  have  you  done  ? 
Has  anything  gone  amiss  ?  You  seem  out  of 
spirits." 

"  The  people  are  all  very  civil.  Lady 
Farnleigh  was  especially  so.  To  prevent  any 
pasticcio  about  fixing  the  day,  she  gave  up,  or 
put  off  rather,  a  party  at  her  own  house  for 
next  Wednesday,  giving  up  that  day  to  us. 
So  it  is  fixed  for  Wednesday,  and  to-morrow 
I  will  go  up  to  the  Chase.  All  the  rest  have 
accepted." 

'*  But  what  is  it  that  has  vexed  you,  Ar- 
thur? for  I  can  see  that  something  has." 

"  No  ;  it's  your  fancy.  All  the  people 
seem  inclined  to  be  very  kind.  There's  noth- 
ing amiss  that  I  know  of." 

"lam  sure  something  has  annoyed  y^u, 
Arthur,"  persisted  his  sister,  looking  him  in 
the  face  ;  "  tell  me  what  it  is  !  " 

"  1  do  not  know  why  I  should  look  an- 
noyed, I  am  sure.  I  might  look  surprised; 
for  I  did  hear  something  that  surprised  me 
in  Silverton." 

"  What  about?"  asked  his  sister. 

"  Oh,  nothing  that  concerns  us  at  all.  It 
seems  that  Falconer  and  Miss  Kate  Lindis- 
fiirn  are  to  make  a  match  of  it :  that  is  alL  ; 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


And  I  confess  it  does  seem  to  me  that  he  is 
not  half  good  enough  for  her.  I  think  I 
never  saw  a  girl  who  made  so  strong  an  im- 
pression on  me." 

If  Merriton  had  not  been  so  much  en- 
grossed by  his  own  emotions  as  to  be  ren- 
dered foj  the  time  unobservant  of  those  of 
others,  he  might  have  been  struck  by  the 
fact  that  his  communication  produced  a  some- 
what stronger  effect  upon  his  gentle  sister 
than  appeared  wholly  attributable  to  her 
sisterly  interest  in  his  feelings.  A  sudden 
and  deep  flush  passed  over  her  delicate  and 
pale  face,  leaving  it  the  next  instant  a  shade 
paler,  perhaps,  than  it  had  been  before.  She 
only  said,  however,  after  a  lew  moments' 
pause,  during  which  she  succeeded  in  recov- 
ering her  composure,  or  at  least  the  appear- 
ance of  it, — 

"  But  how  did  you  hear  it,  Arthur?  Re- 
member, a  great  deal  of  groundless  nonsense 
is  apt  to  be  talked  on  such  matters  ;  and  it  is 
very  unlikely  that  anything  should  be  really 
known  on  the  subject  unless  they  are  abso- 
lutely engaged  to  each  other  ;  I  do  not  be- 
lieve that  is  the  case." 

"  Engaged  !  No,  I  don't  suppose  they  are 
engaged,  or  the  factwould  be  simply  stated." 

"  What  did  you  hear,  then,  and  from 
whom  ? ' ' 

"  From  old  Falconer,  when  I  invited  him 
and  his  son  to  come  here  on  Wednesday." 

"  What  did  he  say  !  " 

"  Well,  upon  my  word,  I  hardly  know 
what  he  said.  But  he  gave  me  the  impres- 
sion that  it  was  a  sort  of  understood  thing 
that  his  son  and  INIiss  Lindisfarn  were  to 
make  a  match  of  it." 

"  Miss  Kate  Lindisfarn  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Kate  Lindisfarn.  Oh,  he  spoke 
of  Miss  Kate  clearly  enough  ?  He  talked — 
that  reminds  me — of  their  having  been  near 
neighbors  all  their  lives,  and  of  their  having 
been  brought  up  together,  and  of  their  being 
great  friends.  But  somehow  or  other,  he  left 
the  impression  yn  my  mind  that  he  meant 
more  than  all  that.  I  did  not  notice,"  he 
continuf'd  after  a  pause,  "  anything  between 
them  last  night ;  did  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  can't  say  that  I  saw  anything  of 
the  sort,  "  replied  his  sister. 

"  He  sat  next  me  at  dinner,"  she  contin- 
ued, with  a  recurrence  in  a  slighter  degree  of 
the  blush  which  the  first  mention  of  the  sub- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


ject  had  occasioned  her  ;  "  and  after  dinner 
he  seemed  to  me  to  be  talking  much  more  to 
the  other  sister." 

"  But  tliat  might  have  been  mere  civility 
to  a  stranger  newly  come  among  them.  The 
other  sister,  Miss  Margaret,  seemed  to  mc  to 
have  very  little  in  her." 

"  Oh,  I  thought  her  a  very  nice  girl !  " 

"  She  has  lived,  she  told  me,  all  her  life 
till  now  in  Paris  ;  I  never  like  French  women. 
They  never  have  any  sympathy  with  any- 
thing, or  person,  or  subject  outside  of  the 
barriers  of  Paris." 

And  then  the  brother  and  sister  went  into 
the  dining-room  ;  and  the  presence  of  the  ser- 
vants prevented  any  further  conversation  upon 
the  subject  of  the  Lindisfarn  lasses. 

Frederick  Falconer  had  in  the  mean  time 
ridden  up  to  the  Chase,  as  has  been  seen, 
bent  on  acting  upon  the  sage  hints  that  had 
been  thrown  out  by  his  father  over-night  as 
they  were  returning  together  from  the  din- 
ner-party, with  some  little  modification  of 
his  own.  He  perfectly  recognized  the  justice 
of  the  old  gentleman's  reasons  for  thinking 
Kate  the  more  desirable  match  of  the  two. 
But  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  make  quite 
60  light,  as  his  father  was  disposed  to  do,  of 
the  opposition  which  he  well  knew  awaited 
him  on  the  part  of  Lady  Farnleigh.  He  had 
far  better  means  of  knowing,  as  he  said  to 
himself,  how  great  her  influence  over  her 
goddaughter  was.  And  besides,  though  he 
was  by  no  means  deficient  in  a  sufficiently 
high  appreciation  of  his  own  advantages, 
and  was  not  without  a  certain  degree  of  hope 
that  Miss  Lindisfarn  was  not  altogether  in- 
disposed to  like  him,  yet  he  was  far  from 
having  the  same  degree  of  confidence  on  the 
subject  that  he  had  chosen  to  manifest  in 
speaking  to  his  father.  And  then,  again,  he 
really  was  powerfully  attracted  by  Margaret's 
beauty  and  manner,  and  had  already  begun 
to  draw  comparisons  between  the  two  girls 
entirely  to  the  advantage  of  the  new-comer. 
He  had  spent  the  whole  of  the  two  hours  he 
had  passed  at  his  desk  in  the  bank  that  morn- 
ing, before  he  had  stolen  away  from  it  to  ride 
up  to  the  Chase,  in  reviewing  the  grounds  of 
such  a  comparison.  Both  girls  were  hand- 
some,— there  was  no  doubt  about  that.  But 
he  thought  that  the  more  delicate  and  less 
rustic  beauty  of  the  Parisian  had  more  at- 
tractions for  him.  Then  there  was  no  deny- 
ing that  she  had  more  style,  more  grace,  more 


69 

oile  grand  air,  said  Freddy  to  himself,  calling 
up  his  own  French  sa\iOiT  and  experiences. 
He  had  a  notion,  too,  t^at  her  ways  of  think- 
ing and  tastes  were  probably  better  adapted 
to  his  own.  There  were  things  in  Kate  that 
he  did  not  altogether  like  ;  that  violent  pas- 
sion of  hers  for  tearing  over  the  country  like 
a  female  Nimrod,  for  instance  —  her  way, 
too,  of  blurting  out  whatever  came  into  her 
head,  often  with  a  certain  look  in  her  eye 
as  if  she  were  laughing  at  one.  He  had 
seen  no  symptom  of  anything  like  this  in 
Margaret.  In  fact,  the  meaning  in  her  eyes, 
as  far  as  he  had  seen — and  it  must  be  admit- 
ted, that  she  had  the  most  exquisitely  ex- 
pressive eyes  that  were  ever  seen  in  a  human 
head  ! — had  been  characterized  by  anything 
but  an  expression  of  ridicule  when  they  had 
rested  on  him. 

In  short,  though  perfectly  well  aware  that 
it  behoved  him  to  win  the  heart  and  hand  of 
Kate,  if  he  could,  he  had  pretty  well  made 
up  his  mind  that  it  would  be  a  far  more  agree- 
able task  to  him  to  win  those  of  Margaret. 
But  there  was  something  in  ]Mr.  Frederick's 
constitution  and  natural  disposition  which 
disinclined  him  from  paying  much  attention 
to  that  part  of  his  father's  counsel  which  had 
alluded  to  the  danger  of  falling  between  two 
stools.  Two  stools  seemed  to  Mr.  Freddy  so 
much  better  and  safer  than  only  one.  Surely, 
it  was  not  prudent  to  put  all  one's  eggs  into 
one  basket !  Surely,  two  strings  to  one's 
bow  were  admitted  to  be  a  good  thing !  He 
could  not  bring  himself  to  back  himself 
frankly  and  heartily  to  win  with  the  one 
horse,  to  the  entire  giving  up  of  all  hopes  of 
the  other.  The  unknown  quantities  that 
entered  into  the  problem  to  be  solved  were 
so  much  larger  than  the  known  ones  that 
he  felt  it  to  be  far  the  most  prudent  plan 
to  keep  the  matter  open  as  long  as  might  be, 
make  what  progress  he  could,  without  com- 
mitting himself  irrevocably  on  either  side, 
and  be  guided  by  circumstances. 

It  would  be  far  from  wise,  too,  to  disre- 
gard such  a  pis-aller  as  Miss  Merriton.  Pis- 
aller !  Twenty-five  thousand  pounds  abso- 
lutely her  own,  and  her  brother  looking  as  if 
a  good  sharp  English  spring  might  make  an 
end  of  him  ?  A  very  pretty  pis-alter,  indeed. 
It  was  all  very  well  for  his  father  to  talk  in 
that  way,  when  he  had  set  his  heart  on  go- 
ing in  for  the  whole  of  the  Lindisfarn  prop- 
erty.    But  there  was  many  a  slip  between 


70 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


that  cup  and  the  lip.  "Mies  Merriton  was  a 
very  charming  little  girl.  He  had  a  strong 
persuasion  that  he  might  have  her  for  the 
asking  ;  or  at  least  that,  after  a  due  period  of 
service  for  such  a  pretty  little  Rachel,  he 
might  make  sure  of  her.  And  it  would  be 
very  unwise  to  throw  such  a  chance  to  the 
winds  before  he  was  sure  of  something  better. 
It  was  in  this  frame  of  mind  that  Mr. 
Frederick  locked  up  his  desk,  after  sitting  at 
it  for  a  couple  of  hours,  and  slipped  out  of 
the  bank  to  order  his  horse  and  ride  up  to 
the  Chase.  Mr.  Falconer  senior  was  very  in- 
dulgent to  his  son  and  heir  as  to  the  amount 


of  attendance  be  exacted  from  him  at 'the 
bank,  if  only  the  hours  spent  away  from  it 
were  used  advantageously  in  a  social  point  of 
view  ;  and  he  was  especially  well  pleased  at 
all  times,  and  more  particularly  after  the 
conversation  of  the  night  before,  to  know 
that  his  son  was  up  at  Lindisfarn  Chase. 

So  Mr.  Frederick  had  arrived  there,  still 
looking,  as  Lady  Farnleigh  had  said,  for  all 
the  world  as  if  he  had  just  been  taken  out  of 
the  bandbox,  in  which  a  London  tailor  had 
sent  him  down  for  the  enlightenment  and  in- 
struction of  Sillshire,  just  as  the  ladies  were 
about  to  sit  down  to  luncheon. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


chapter  xii. 
Fred's  luncheon  at  the  chase. 
Mr.  Frederick  Falconer  arrived  at  the 
Chase  just  as  the  ladies  were  going  to  sit 
down  to  luncheon.  The  ladies  were  Miss 
Immy  and  the  Lindisfarn  lasses.  And  they 
were  about  to  partake  of  that  meal  specially 
sacred  to  ladies  and  ladies'  men  alone.  It 
was  a  great  opportunity  for  Freddy.  Tliere 
was  neither  Lady  Farnleigh  nor  Mr.  Mat. 
In  the  presence  of  either  of  those  persons, 
Mr.  Freddy  was,  as  the  old  story  records 
Punch  to  have  declared  himself  to  have  felt 
when  Mrs.  Carter,  who  translated  Epictetus, 
was  among  his  audience, — unable  to"  talk  his 
own  talk."  Freddy  Falconer  could  not  talk 
his  own  talk  when  either  Lady  Farnleigh  or 
Mr.  Mat  was  present. 

But  on  the  present  occasion  all  evil  influ- 
ences were  absent,  and  all  good  ones  were  in 
the  ascendant.  There  were  Miss  Immy  in 
high  good-humor  ;  there  was  the  minced  veal 
and  mashed  potatoes,  beautiful  golden-col- 
ored butter  and  the  home-made  loaf,  a  cur- 
rant tart,  and  a  bowl  of  Sillshire  cream  : 
There  was  the  decanter  of  sherry  for  Miss  Im- 
my, the  small  jug  of  amber  ale  for  Miss  Kate, 
the  carafe  of  sparkling  water  for  Miss  Mar- 
garet. The  malignant  fliiry  godmother  was 
far  away  up  in  her  wind-swept  garden  at 
Wanstrow  ;  the  squire  was  beating  the  tur- 
nips in  a  distant  field,  and  the  odious  Mr.  Mat 
was  trudging  by  his  side.  Had  ever  a  ladies' 
man  a  fairer  field  ?  Nor  can  it  be  by  any 
means  said  that  he  had  no  favor ! 

Both  the  young  ladies,  as  we  already  know, 
were  more  or  less  favorably  disposed  toward 
him,  each  after  her  own  fashion.  And  Miss 
Immy  was  one  of  those  who  are  disposed  to 
allow  their  fullest  weight  to  the  claims  of 
old  neighborhood  and  long  acquaintanceship. 
Freddy  Falconer,  too,  had  in  her  eyes  the  par- 
amount advantage  over  either  of  the  other 
two  young  men  who  had  been  there  the  pre- 
vious evening,  of  being  thorough  Sillshire. 
Captain  Ellingham  and  Mr.  Merriton  were 
both  strangers  and  new  acquaintances,  which 
made  a  very  notable  difference  to  Miss  Immy. 
"  And  what  do  you  think  of  our  new  im- 
portations into  Sillshire?  "  asked  Kate,  when 
Fred  had  been  cordially  asked  to  take  some 
luncheon,  and  was  comfortably  established 
by  the  side  of  one  of  the  young  ladies,  and 
opposite  to  the  other.  Kate  was  sitting  op- 
posite to  Miss  Immy,  and  Margaret  on  the 


71 

side  of  the  table  nearest  the  fire,  between 
them.  Mr.  Fred,  therefore,  took  tlic  goods 
the  gods  provided  him — i.  e.,  minced  veal, 
potatoes  and  sherry,  current  tart  and  Sillshire 
cream — in  a  position  yet  more  shone  on  by 
the  rays  of  beauty  than  that  of  Philip's  war- 
like son  at  the  royal  feast  for  Persia  won  ! — 
a  position  more  brilliant,  but  more  difficult 
also  than  that  of  Alexander. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  our  new  importa- 
tions into  Sillshire?  "  said  Kate. 

"  The  Merritons,  or  Captain  Ellingham? 
Which  arc  you  alluding  to  ?  " 

"  To  both.  But  you  knew  the  Merritons 
before  ;    did  you  not?  " 

"  Not  I  !  I  never  set  eyes  on  either  of 
them  till  they  came  down  here.  They  were 
old  friends,  I  fancy,  of  our  business  connec- 
tions in  London.  I  think  my  father  had  seen 
Mr.  Merriton  in  London." 

"  Quite  a  young  man  beseems,"  said  Kate. 
"  Oh,  yes  !  A  boy  rather,  one  might  say. 
lie  has  just  come  of  age.  And  upon  my 
word,  he  looks  as  if  an  English  winter  would 
do  for  him.  Poor  fellow  !  I  should  say  he 
would  have  done  more  wisely  to  settle  in  liis 
mother's  country, — in  Italy, — where  he  has 
spent  most  part  of  his  life.'* 

"Oh,  in  Italy?"  said  Margaret.  "He 
told  me  yesterday  at  dinner  that  he  had  lived 
abroad  '  most  of  his  life.'  " 

"  Yes,  and  when  a  man  has  done  that,  he 
is  rarely  fit  for  English  life  in  any  way." 

"  Oh,  don't  say  so,  Mr.  Falconer;  or  I 
shall  fancy  that  I  am  not  fitted  for  English 
life,  or  that  you  don't  think  me  so,"  said 
Margaret,  with  a  look  of  the  most  tender  ap- 
pealing reproachfulness  in  her  eyes,  as  pa- 
thetically eloquent  as  if  she  had  been  expect- 
ing her  doom  from  the  arbiter  of  her  destiny. 
"  Nay  !  it  is  quite  a  different  thing  in  the 
case  of  a  lady,"  said  Freddy,  coloringa  little. 
"  The  foreign  ways  and  manners,  which  are 
apt  to  make  a  man  perhaps  not  altogether — 
what  ladies  like  in  this  country — or  gentle- 
men, indeed,  either,  for  that  matter — only 
serve  to  add  new  grace  to  one  of  the  other 
sex.  Besides,  there  is  a  vast  difference  be- 
tween Italy  and  Paris.  There  is,  as  all  the 
world  knows,  no  charm  equal  to  that  of  a 
Parisian  woman,"  said  Mr.  Freddy,  with  the 
enthusiasm  of  intense  conviction. 

"  Is  there  no  chance,  then,  for  poor  home- 
bred Zillshire  volk?"  asked  Kate,  with  a 
laugh  in  her  voice,  and  roguish  quizzing  in 


72 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


her  eyes,  and  just  the  least  little  bit  of  pique 
in  her  heart. 

"  Now,  Miss  Kate,  you  know  how  far  that 
is  from  my  feeling  in  the  matter  !  Surely, 
you  and  1  are  much  too  old  friends  to  misun- 
derstand each  other  upon  such  a  point." 

The  position  was  a  difficult  one.  The  worst 
o£  it  was,  that  there  was  no  possibility  of 
making  any  by-play  with  the  eyes  !  What 
the  tongue  says  may  almost  always  be  modi- 
fied sufficiently  for  all  purposes,  if  one  can  but 
find  the  means  of  supplying  a  running  com- 
mentary with  the  eyes,  addressed  to  one  spe- 
cial reader.  But  Fred's  situation,  with  one 
lady  opposite  to  hinj,  and  one  at  right  angles 
to  him,  shut  him  out  from  that  resource  ; — 
unless,  indeed,  from  such  very  limited  use  of 
it  as  could  be  resorted  to  by  seizing  and  mak- 
ing the  most  of  the  opportunities  afibrded 
him  by  the  momentary  employment  of  one  of 
the  two  pairs  of  bright  eyes,  under  the  cross- 
fire of  which  he  was  sitting,  on  a  plate  or  a 
drinking-glass.  And  even  so  there  was  very 
little  good  to  be  done  with  Kate  in  this  fash- 
ion, unless  it  was  in  the  way  of  laughing. 
Kate  would  laugh  with  you  or  at  you,  with 
her  eyes,  as  much  as  you  pleased  ;  would  an- 
swer a  laugh  in  your  eyes,  and  answer  it 
openly  or  aside,  as  the  case  needed.  But  she 
did  not  seem  to  understand  any  tendei'er  eye- 
language.  Or  if  she  did,  she  would  not  talk 
it  with  Freddy  Falconer,  old  friends  as  they 
were. 

And  that  was  the  reason  why,  after  that 
luncheon-table  campaign  was  over,  Fred  felt 
that  he  had  made  more  progress  that  day 
with  Miss  Margaret  than  with  Miss  Kate. 

As  regarded  Mr.  Merriton,  however,  he 
found  the  latter  more  inclined  to  agree 
with  him  than  the  former.  Notwithstanding 
Kate's  wish  to  be  good-natured,  and  to  make 
herself  and  their  new  neighborhood  generally 
agreeable  to  the  strangers,  and  the  reality  of 
tli«  interest  she  had  expressed  to  Mr.  Merri- 
ton about  Italy  and  Italian  places  and  things, 
he  had  seemed  to  her  rather  a  feckless  sort 
of  body — rather  a  poor  creature.  And  Kate 
was  about  the  last  girl  in  the  world  to  like  a 
man  who  belonged  in  any  degi-ee  to  the  cate- 
gory of  "  poor  creatures,"  or  to  admit  that 
the  absence  of  manliness  and  vigor  could  be 
atoned  for  by  elegance  of  manner  and  advan- 
tages of  person.  She  was  not  disposed  to  un- 
dervalue his  capacity  for  assisting  her  in  her 
study  of  Dante.     But  she  would  have  been 


more  inclined  to  like  him,  if  her  attention 
had  been  called  to  his  capacity  for  riding 
well  up  to  hounds.  Doubtless  she  would 
have  preferred  a  cavalier  equally  calculated 
to  shine  in  the  field  and  in  the  study  ;  but  if 
one  good  quality  out  of  the  two  could  be  had 
only,  I  take  it  Kate  would  have  decided  for 
the  hounds,  and  Dante  would  have  gone  to 
the  wall.  I  do  not  say, 'be  it  observed,  that 
Kate  Lindisfarn  was  a  very  charming  girl 
because  of  this  ;  I  only  say  that  she  was  a 
very  charming  girl,  and  that  such  was  the 
case. 

As  for  Margaret,  she  would  have  cared 
nothing  at  all  about  the  riding  to  hounds  ;  and 
truth  to  say,  very  little  indeed  about  the  ca- 
pacity for  understanding  Dante.  And,  as 
we  know,  she  was  "  a  very  charming  girl," 
too.  But  some  of  the  value  of  that  phrase 
of  course  depends  upon  the  object  on  whom 
the  charm  operates,  and  by  whom  it  is  recog- 
nized. Now  there  can  be  no  doubt  at  all 
that  Margaret  was  a  very  particularly  charm- 
ing girl  to  Mr.  Falconer,  despite  her  disagree- 
ing with  him  about  Mr.  Merriton. 

"  For  my  part,"  said  she,  shooting  across 
the  table  one  of  those  glances  with  which 
young  ladies,  who  are  properly  up  in  all  the 
departments  of  eye  language,  know  how  to 
render  such  a  declaration  rather  agreeable 
than  otherwise  to  the  receiver  of  it, — "for 
my  part,  I  think  you  are  too  hard  upon  poor 
Mr.  Merriton.  It  is  unfair  to  expect  that  he 
should  possess  all  the  advantages  which  can 
only  come  from  a  wider  and  larger  knowledge 
of  the  world." 

"Really,  IMiss  Margaret,  I  had  no  inten- 
tion of  being  hard  on  him,"  said  Falconer, 
returning  her  look  with  interest,  "  and  I  shall 
have  less  inclination  than  ever  to  be  so,  of 
course ' '  (eye  commentary  here,  intelligible  to 
the  merest  tyro  in  that  language),  "  if  you 
take  him  under  your  protection." 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  say  a  word,"  put  in 
Kate;  "and  really  I  don't  think  there  is  a 
word  to  be  said  against  his  manner.  It  is 
that  of  a  very  young  man,  that  is  all." 

"  That  is  it,"  said  Margaret  avec  inteniion, 
and  looking  as  she  spoke,  not  at  her  sister, 
but  at  Falconer  ;  "  I  never  can  find  such  mere 
boys  very  agreeable." 

"  I  agree  with  Mr.  Frederick,"  said  Miss 
Immy ;  "my  notion  is,  that  if  the  poor- 
wished  lad  had  been  born  and  bred  in  Zill- 
shire,  he  would  not  have  looked  for  all  the 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


•world  as  tliough  he  had  lived  on  sugar  and 
water  and  pweot  biscuits  all  his  life,  like  Miss 
Lasseron's  Italian  greyhound  !  " 

"  And  wliat  about  the  other  new-comer 
among  us?"  said  Falconer,  not  addressing 
hiuisolf  to  any  one  of  the  party  more  than  to 
another.  "  What  of  Captain  Ellingham?" 
"  Now  tliat  is  being  harder  than  ever  upon 
poor  Mr.  Merriton,  to  bring  tlie  two  men  into 
contrast  in  tliat  way,"  cried  Kate. 

"  Well,  I  confess  I  cannot  agree  with  you 
there,  Kate,"'  said  her  sister.  "  If  there  is 
any  hardness  in  the  matter,  I  think  it  is  all 
the  other  way,  for  my  part." 

"Oh,  Margaret,  how  can  you  think  eo  !  " 
said  Kate,  with  some  emphasis. 

"  And  I  do  not  think  Mr.  Falconer  had 
any  notion  of  making  a  comparison  that  would 
be  disadvantageous  to  Mr.  Merriton,  at  all 
events,"  added  Margaret. 

"  Indeed  I  had  not,"  replied  Falconer.  "  I 
found  Captain  Ellingham  markedly  civil ;  and 
I  have  not  a  word  to  say  in  his  disparagement 
in  any  way.  I  do  not  doubt  that  he  is  a  most 
able  and  meritorious  officer,  notwithstanding 
the  position  he  occupies  in  the  service.  Of 
course,  from  merely  passing  an  evening  in  a 
drawing-room  with  two  men,  one  can  form 
no  opinion  except  as  to  their  general  exterior 
agreeability  ;  and  as  far  as  that  goes,  1  con- 
fess that  I  think  Merriton  has  all  the  advan- 
tage." 

"  Why,  what  in  the  world  did  you  see  in 
Captain  Ellingham  to  make  you  take  an  aver- 
sion to  him?  "  asked  Kate. 

"  I  did  not  take  an  aversion  to  him  the 
least  in  the  world,  I  assure  you,  my  dear  Miss 
Lindisfarn  !  On  the  contrary.  But  it  seems 
that  I  only  shared  the  impression  he  made 
upon  your  sister." 

"  I  own  that  I  did  not  see  anything  partic- 
ularly attractive  about  him,  notwithstanding 
all  that  Lady  Farnleigh  said  in  his  praise," 
said  ^largaret. 

"  Is  he  a  great  friend  of  Lady  Farnleigh's, 
then?  "  asked  Falconer. 

"  Oh,  yes,  and  according  to  her,  he  is  a 
chevalier  sans  peur  et  sans  nproche, — a  mirror 
of  all  the  virtues !  I  dare  say  he  may  be ; 
but  "— 

"Oh,  Lady  Farnleigh's  approbation  is  quite 
sufficient  to  secure  to  the  fortunate  possessor 
of  it  that  of  your  sister.  Miss  Margaret,"  said 
Falconer,  with  some  little  appearance  of  pique 
in  his  manner.     "  When  you  have  been  a 


73 

little  longer  an  inmate  of  the  Chase,  you  will 
doubtless  make  that  discovery  for  yourself." 

"  And  if  I  pinned  my  faith  upon  anybody's 
judgment  in  all  the  world,  I  am  very  sure 
that  I  could  not  have  a  safer  and  better 
guide,"  cried  Kate  with  some  vehemence; 
"  and  I  have  no  doubt  Margaret  will  discover 
that  too,  before  she  has  been  here  long.  Per- 
haps I  should  be  wiser,"  she  added,  with  a 
•momentary  half-glance  at  Falconer,  "  if  I 
followed  her  guidance  in  all  cases  more  im- 
plicitly." 

"  I  am  sure  no  one  could  doubt  the  excel- 
lence of  Lady  Farnleigh's  judgment  on  any 
subject,"  said  Freddy,  looking  rather  discom- 
fited ;  "but  probably  she  was  speaking  of 
Captain  Ellingham  as  of  an  old  friend  and 
contemporary  of  her  own." 

"  Hardly  that,  I  should  think,"  said  Kate. 
"Why,  how  old  a  man  should  you  take  Cap- 
tain Ellingham  to  be?  " 

"  Well,  he  is  one  of  those  men  who  may 
be  almost  any  age  ;  but  I  should  say  he  must 
be  on  the  wrong  side  of  forty,"  said  Falconer. 

"  Impossible  !  "  cried  Kate.  "  I  am  no 
judge  of  people's  ages ;  but  to  my  notion 
Captain  Ellingham  seems  quite  a  young 
man." 

"  A  young  man,  Kate !  Why,  he  is  quite 
gray.  I  declare  he  looks  every  bit  as  old  as 
Mr.  Mat!" 

"  He  certainly  is  very  gray,  both  on  the 
head  and  about  the  beard,"  said  Freddy; 
"  but  that  is  not  the  worst  of  it.  There  are 
certain  lines  about  the  face  " — 

"  I  don't  think  a  man's  appearance  is  at  all 
injured  by  a  few  gray  hairs  among  the  black 
ones  ;  and  as  for  the  lines,  a  face  is  far  more 
interesting  to  me,  that  looks  as  if  the  owner 
had  been  doing  something  else  all  his  life  than 
thinking  of  taking  care  of  it!  "  cried  Kate, 
in  her  usual  impetuous  way,  having  been 
provoked  into  saying  more  than  she  would 
otherwise  have  done  by  the  spitefulness  of 
Falconer's  remarks,  and  by  his  attack  on  her 
with  reference  to  Lady  Farnleigh. 

"  Oh  !  if  Kate  prefers  gray-beards,  there 
can  be  no  more  to  be  said  on  the  subject,  you 
know,  Mr.  Falconer.  Affaire  cle  f/oui !  We 
have  only  to  remember  it  and  to  respect  it, 
n^est-ce  pas !  "  said  Margaret. 

"But  is  there  nothing  worth  talking  of 
except  beards^  either  gray,  black,  or  brown? 
What  of  the  other  new  arrival  ?  What  of 
Miss  Merriton  ?     On  that  subject  I  am  sure 


74 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


Mr.  Frederick  ought  to  be  able  to  enlighten 
us  ;  for  he  was  studying  it  all  dinner-time." 
"  What  else  was  there  for  me  to  do,  un- 
less it  were  to  eat  my  dinner  in  silence?" 
remonstrated  Falconer.  "My  opinion  was 
not  wanted  in  the  discussion  that  was  going 
on  about  poachers,  between  your  father  and 
Lady  Farnleigh  and  Mr.  Mat.  I  could  not 
venture  to  do  Mr.  M'erriton  such  wrong  as  to 
prevent  him  from  consecrating  all  his  atten- 
tion to  Miss  Margaret,  as  he  seemed  so  par- 
ticularly well  inclined  to  do.  What  else 
remained  for  me,  except  to  do  the  civil,  as 
indeed  I  was  in  every  way  bound  to  do,  to 
Miss  Merriton  ?  " 

"Of  course  you  eould  do  no  otherwise," 
said  Margaret;  "and  now  give  us  the  re- 
sult of  your  investigations." 

"The  result  is  very  soon  and  very  easily 
stated,"  replied  Freddy.  "  Miss  Rlerriton 
is  a  perfectly  ladylike,  well-educated,  very 
timid,  very  shy,  and,  1  should  say,  very  un- 
interesting young  lady.  There  is  no  fault  to 
be  found  with  her  ;  but  neither  is  there  any- 
thing except  negative  good  to  be  said  of  her." 
It  seemed  to  be  more  easy  for  the  little 
party  around  the  luncheon-table  to  come  to 
an  agreement  on  this  subject  than  it  had 
been  on  the,  it  must  be  supposed,  more  inter- 
esting topic  of  the  lords  of  the  creation  ;  for 
there  was  little  dissent  from  the  judgment 
pronounced  by  JMr.  Frederick  on  the  quiet 
and  unobtrusive  little  creature  whose  chief 
title  to  notice  in  the  world — her  twent3'-five 
thousand  pounds  in  her  own  absolute  dispo- 
sition— he  had  not  deemed  it  necessary  to 
touch  on  in  summing  up  her  claims  to  con- 
sideration. 

And  then  the  ladies  rose  to  quit  the  table, 
and  Mr.  Frederick  took  his  leave,  and  rode 
back  slowly  to  Silverton,  pondering  many 
things  in  his  mind.  His  visit  had  very 
manifestly  done  little  towards  forwarding 
his  views,  as  far  as  they  coincided  with  those 
of  his  father.  He  had  accomplished  as  seri- 
ous an  amount  of  flirtation  with  Miss  Mar- 
garet as  could  have  been  expected  from  the 
circumstances.  But  he  had,  if  anything,  lost 
rather  than  gained  ground  with  Miss  Kate. 
The  progress  in  either  case  was,  however,  he 
said  to  himself,  p-obably  infinitesimal.  But 
he  thought  that  the  advance  he  had  made 
toward  attaining  a  necessary  and  accurate 
view  of  his  position,  and  of  the  state  of  the 
game,  was  greater  and  more  important. 


"  Lady  Farnleigh  means  Kate  for  her  pen- 
niless protege.  Captain  Ellingham."  That 
was  the  first  datum  which  he  thought  might 
be,  with  tolerable  certainty,  deduced  from 
his  observations.  "  She  has  already  begun 
to  work  towards  that  end,  and  has  already 
achieved  a  commencement  of  success.  How 
fierce  the  little  lady  was  when  I  ventured  to 
sneer  at  her  being  led  by  the  nose  by  lier  god- 
mother !  And  I  did  not  see  the  least  sign 
which  could  encourage  me  to  think  that  I 
can  fight  against  that  influence  with  success. 
No  ;  to  be  honest  with  myself  and  keep  clear 
of  delusions,  no  sign  ;  as  long  as  I  had  the 
field  all  to  myself,  it  might  have  been  differ- 
ent— might  have  been.  But  now  it  would 
be  a  race  carrying  very  heavy  weight. 

"  Then,"  continuing  his  meditations,  "  on 
the  other  side,  there  are  signs.  I  have  done 
more  with  Margaret  in  two  days  than  I  have 
done  with  Kate  in  twice  as  many  years,  by 
Jove  !  The  fact  is,  there  is  more  sympathy 
between  us.  Put  all  considerations  of  pru- 
dence out  of  the  question,  I  swear  I  would 
not  hesitate  a  minute.  What  a  graceful,  ele- 
gant-mannered, intelligent,  exquisitely  pretty 
little  creature  she  is  !  I  am  strongly  inclined 
to  think,  let  the  old  gentleman  say  what  he 
will,  that  Margaret  should  be  my  game — out 
and  out,  without  any  shilly-shally. 

' '  The  one  seems  possible  enough  ;  the  other 
looks  to  me  very  much  like  being  impossible. 
If  that  detestable  old  woman  up  at  Wanstrow 
means  to  make  her  marry  Ellingham, — and  I 
have  very  little  doubt  upon  that  point, — she 
will  succeed  in  doing  it.  I  don't  think  she 
could  turn  Margaret  round  her  finger  in  that 
way.  There  is  a  difierent  sort  of  character 
there. 

"  And  suppose  I  determine  to  play  for  Mar- 
garet out  and  out,  and  throw  over  at  once  all 
hope  of  the  other  :  is  the  speculation  so  much 
worse  an  one?  That  old  Wanstrow  woman's 
six  thousand  pounds  are  not  worth  counting. 
Pshaw  !  But  about  the  place.  Every  word 
my  father  says  about  the  importance  of  such 
a  prize  is  true.  The  old  boy  is  right  enough 
there.  But  would  it  be  so  much  more  diffi- 
cult to  win  Lindisfarn  with  Margaret  than 
with  Kate?  I  doubt  it.  Specially  if  lam 
to  assume  that  Kate  marries  Ellingham. 
How  is  he,  a  man  without  a  penny  in  the 
world,  to  find  the  means  of  paying  half  the 
price  of  the  Chase  estates?  A  good  fifty  thou- 
sand would  be  needful,  if  a  penny.    Would 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


it  be  likely  that  such  a  man  should  sec  his 
interest  in  causing  the  estates  to  be  eold? 
With  delay,  uncertainty,  expense?  Would 
it  not  be  very  much  more  likely,  supposing 
that  he  were  to  marry  one  girl,  and  I  the 
other,  that  he  would  be  exceedingly  glad  to 
accept  the  old  gentleman's  cash  to  the  amount 
of  half  the  value  of  the  property?  Is  there 
any  ground  for  imagining  that  the  squire 
would  make  an  objection  to  such  an  arrange- 
ment, if  desired  by  all  the  parties  concerned? 
I  cannot  see  it.  If  he  held  I)y  the  old  name 
I  should  make  no  difficulty  about  accommo- 
dating him.  '  Falconer  Lindisfarn,  Esquire, 
of  Lindisfarn,' — that  would  do  remarkably 
well.  Or  '  Sir  Falconer  Lindisfarn  !  '  better 
still;  and  why  not?  Yes,  I  think,  I  thmh 
that  will  be  the  game,  the  more  prudent  as 
well  as  the  pleasanter  game  to  play.  Hon- 
estly, I  do  think  so.  But  what  about  that 
fellow  Merriton?  Kate  would  never  marry 
bim.  Is  there  any  danger  of  his  cutting  me 
out  with  Margaret?  She  was  more  inclined 
to  like  bim  than  that  boisterous,  violent, 
upright  and  downright  Kate  !  But  I  have  a 
great  notion  that  that  was  all  a  mon  adrcssc ! 
She  has  far  more  manner,  far  more  knowledge 
of  the  world  than  her  sister  in  that  respect. 
And  I  fancy,  too^  that  she  is  one  who  would 
have  the  sense  to  know  oq  which  side  her 
bread  is  buttered.  And  I  hardly  think  Mer- 
riton would  be  in  a  position  to  make  her 
mistress  of  Lindisfarn.  I  don't  know;  I  must 
ask  my  father  how  that  is  ;  but  I  think  not. 
Besides,  I  do  flatter  myself  that  I  could  cut 
out  that  boy!  " 

So,  by  the  time  Freddy  had  reached  his  fa- 
ther's door,  he  may  be  said  to  have  pretty 
well  made  up  his  mind  to  enter  himself,  as 
he  phrased  it  to  his  own  mind,  for  the  Mar- 
garet sweepstakes  in  thorough  earnest,  make 
a  straightforward  race  of  it,  and  run  his 
best. 

Frederick  Falconer  was,  it  will  have  been 
seen,  a  shrewd  man,  not  under  the  empire 
of  self-delusion,  and  with  a  considerable  gift 
of  seeing  characters  and  things  as  they  really 
were.  The  net  result  of  what  had  taken 
place  at  the  luncheon-table  at  the  Chase  as 
regarded  the  others  of  the  party  who  had 
been  sitting  at  it,  was  not  very  different  from 
what  he  had  felt  it  to  be-  But  he  had  not 
only  made  progress  with  the  one  sister,  but 
had  in  a  yet  greater  degree  advanced  his  sup- 


76 

posed  rival's  cause  with  the  other.  Kate  had 
felt  much  more  disposed  to  feel  a  liking  for 
Captain  Ellingham  after  that  luncheon  than 
she  had  previously.  She  had  defended  him  ; 
— a  very  strong  tie  of  attachment  for  natures 
like  Kate's.  She  had  tiiought  that  lie  waS 
being  unfairly  and  ungenerously  run  down. 
And — strongest  contribution  of  all  to  the  net 
result — she  had  been  made  to  feel  as  if  he 
were  on  the  side  of  her  godmother,  and  the 
others  on  the  contrary  side. 

On  the  following  day,  the  Lindisfarn  la- 
dies had  another  guest  at  their  luncheon-ta- 
ble. Mr.  Merriton  drove  up  to  the  Chase, 
as  he  had  told  Lady  Farnleigh  he  would  do, 
to  give  his  invitations  to  the  Friary  for  the 
following  Wednesday.  They  were  given  and 
accepted,  as  for  as  theyounger  ladies  were  con- 
cerned (for  Miss  Immy  pleaded  important 
engagements  at  home  ;  and  all  the  ladies  de- 
clared that  they  could  not  answer  for  the 
squire,  but  thought  they  might  for  Mr.  Mat), 
rather  to  Margaret's  disgust.  She  accused 
Mr.  Merriton  in  her  heart  of  being  very  stu- 
pid for  not  preferring  to  have  her  and  her 
uncle  there  alone,  as  she  had  projected  and 
prepai-ed  for  him.  And,  moreover,  she  did 
not  look  forward  with  any  pleasure  to  what 
she  feared  would  probably  happen  when  the 
whole  party  should  be  there  togetlier.  She  did 
not  at  all  like  being  trotted  out  in  the  character 
ofan  archaeological  blue-stocking.  The  double 
necessity  and  incompatibility  of  hiding  her 
utter  ignorance  and  indifference  on  the  one 
hand,  and  making  them  evident  on  the  other, 
was  embarrassing  and  disagreeable. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  impossible  to  refuse ; 
and  the  Lindisfarn  lasses  promised  to  be  at 
the  Friary  at  one  o'clock  on  the  Wednes- 
day, either  under  the  escort  of  Mr.  Mat, 
or,  if  that  should  fail  them,  with  Lady  Farn- 
leigh. 

Margaret,  being  out  of  humor,  had  rather 
ubbed  Mr.  Merriton.  But  he  had  pro- 
posed to  Kate  to  show  her  and  explain  to  her 
on  Wednesday  a  volume  of"  Piranesi's  Views 
in  Rome, ' '  And  on  her  replying,  in  her  good- 
humored,  lively  way,  that  she  should  enjoy 
nothing  so  much,  and  should  greatly  like  to 
see  the  Eternal  City,  he  had  gone  away 
more  in  love  with  her  than  ever,  and  dream- 
ing of  the  delight  of  returning  to  Italy  with 
such  a  bride,  and  initiating  her  into  all  its 
lories,  beauties,  and  enjoyments. 


76 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


CHAPTER  XIII, 
THE    P\RTY  AT  TUF  FRIART. 

Lady  Sempronia,  when  at  dinner  the  canon 
had  communicated  to  her  Mr.  Merriton's  in- 
vitation, rather  to  her  husband's  surprise,  sig- 
nified her  intention  of  accepting  it. 

"  I  hardly  hoped,"  he  said,  "  and  did  not 
give  Mr.  Merriton  much  hope,  that  you 
veould  be  induced  to  go  to  the  Friary  ;  but 
you  are  quite  right,  my  dear,  to  look  upon 
this  occasion  as  a  somewhat  extraordinary 
one.  There  is  not  a  more  interesting  locality 
in  the  country,  and  I  flatter  myself  that  1 
shall  be  able  to  make  the  day  a  profitable, 
and  indeed  a  memorable  one  for  all  present." 

And  during  all  the  intervening  days  the 
doctor  was  in  a  state  of  pleasurable  excitement 
and  anticipation,  and  worked  hard  to  have 
every  part  of  the  subject  in  a  complete  state 
of  preparation.  He  would  have  given  a  good 
deal  to  have  secured  the  entire  absence  of 
Mr.  Falconer.  But  he  reckoned,  taking  the 
usual  habits  of  that  archaeological  financier 
as  a  base  for  his  calculations,  that  he  should 
have  a  good  two  hours  and  a  half  before  him, 
ere  the  banker  could  ai-rive. 

It  was  not  without  considerable  disquietude 
and  surprise,  therefore,  that  just  as  the  mod- 
est one-horse  chaise  which  was  conveying  the 
canon  and  Lady  Sempronia  to  the  Friary  was 
jogging  along  the  main  street  of  the  little  vil- 
lage of  Weston,  while  it  yet  wanted  five  min- 
utes to  one  o'clock,  the  doctor  saw  the  bank- 
er's handsome  carriage,  with  its  smart  pair 
of  ba.ys,  dash  past  and  turn  at  the  end  of  the 
village  down  the  road  to  the  private  bridge 
over  the  Sill,  which  leads  to  the  Friary 
house. 

"Good  heavens!  there  is  Falconer!" 
he  exclaimed,  turning  pale.  "But  it  is  im- 
possible !  It  can't  be !  It  must  be  Frederick, 
and  the  carriage  is  going  back  for  his  father. 
Odd  that  the  young  man  should  not  have 
ridden  over,  too  ;  but  I  suppose  as  the  car- 
riage was  ordered  out,  he  thought  it  as  well 
to  make  one  job  of  it." 

"  And  if  it  were  Mr.  Falconer,"  said  Lady 
Sempronia,  "what  then?  I  cannot  see.  Dr. 
Lindisfarn,  that  you  can  pretend  to  a  mo- 
nopoly of  all  the  old  stones  in  the  county, 
though  no  doubt  you  are  the  only  individual 
in  it  who  would  deprive  your  family  of  ne- 
cessaries to  spend  your  substance  on  such 
things.  Mr.  Falconer  can  afford  to  play  the 
fool." 


"  That  is  fortunate,  my  dear,"  returned  the 
doctor  ;  "for  it  is  what  he  assuredly  very  of- 
ten docs." 

And  then,  when  the  canon's  carriage  drove 
up  to  the  door  of  the  Friary,  at  which  Mr. 
Merriton  was  standing  to  receive  his  guests, 
the  doctor,  as  he  alighted,  saw  behind  lum 
the  pig- tail  and  the  florid,  complacent  face 
and  the  well-grown,  black-silk-encased  legs, 
of  the  Silverton  banker.  Giving  a  silent 
shake  of  the  hand  to  his  host,  for  he  could 
not  at  the  moment  spare  time  or  words  for  a 
longer  greeting,  and  leaving  him  to  receive 
and  welcome  Lady  Sempronia  as  best  he 
could,  he  made  one  stride  toward  his  enemy, 
crying  out,  "Is  it  possible,  Mr.  Falconer? 
You  here  at  this  time  in  the  morning?  In 
truth  this  is  a — a  circumstance  " — the  word 
pleasure  stuck  in  the  veracious  doctor's 
throat  —  "which  I  had  not  expected.  I 
hope  that  Mr.  Merriton  is  aware  that  you 
have  broken  in  upon  all  your  habitudes, — in- 
novated on  the  practice  of — how  many  lustres 
shall  I  say  ? — in  order  to   wait  on  him  !  " 

"My  friend  Merriton  is,  I  trust,  aware, 
doctor,  that  I  would  do  more  than  that  for 
him,  if  need  were,"  said  the  banker,  with 
a  bow  and  a  sly  wink  aside  to  the  young 
man. 

"  I  am  quite  aware,  my  dear  sir,"  said 
Merriton,  returning  the  banker's  telegraph, 
"  how  much  Mr.  Falconer  is  deranging  his 
usual  habits  in  order  to  give  us  the  pleasure 
of  his  company.     It  is  very  kind  of  him  " 

"  But  business,  Mr.  Falconer  !  What  will 
the  bank  do  without  you?  " 

"  Oh,  the  bank  can  take  care  of  itself,  for 
once  and  away,  doctor.  The  fact  is,  if  Mer- 
riton will  forgive  me  for  confessing  the  entire 
truth,"  continued  the  banker,  eying  his  vic- 
tim with  a  sweet  and  complacent  smile, 
"  that,  had  our  meeting  here  to-day  been  of 
merely  an  ordinary  festive  character,  I  might 
have  contented  myself  with  enjoying  such 
share  of  it  as  I  could  have  come  in  for  after 
business  hours.  But  when  it  became  known 
to  me  that  the  party  were  to  have  the  treat 
of  inspecting  the  antiquities  of  the  Friary 
under  your  auspices,  doctor,  and  the  advan- 
tage of  your  explanations  of  them,  I  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  of  being  present.  I 
could  not  indeed  !  "  And  then  Mr.  Falconer 
took  a  long  pinch  of  snufi  with  an  air  that 
included  in  it  the  expression  of  a  defiance  to 
mortal  combat.     And  the  mortified  canon 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


knew  ■what  was  before  liim,  and  saw  that  the 
treat  to  which  he  had  been  looking  forward 
•with  80  much  pleasure  had  been  snatched 
from  his  grasp. 

Not  that  he  was  afraid  of  his  adversary, 
or  at  all  disinclined  to  a  fair  stand-up  fight 
with  him  for  any  number  of  hours  by  the 
Friary  clock.  Tliat  also  was  a  pleasure  in 
its  kind  ;  but  it  was  of  a  difierent  sort  from 
the  more  luxurious  and  seducing  one  which 
he  had  promised  himself,  of  having  it  all  his 
own  way,  and  leading  a  troop  of  admiring 
and  unquefitioning  women  from  one  subject 
of  his  learning  and  eloquence  to  another. 

And  then  they  passed  on  to  the  drawing- 
room,  where  Mr.  Frederick  was  found  busily 
engaged  in  prosecuting  those  investigations 
into  the  social  qualities  of  Miss  Merriton, 
■which  had  hitherto  only  led  him,  as  he  had 
assured  the  ladies  at  the  Chase,  to  the  con- 
clutiion  that  she  was  a  wholly  uninteresting 
little  body. 

And  then  came  Lady  Farnleigh  and  Cap- 
tain EUingham  and  not  very  long  after  them 
the  Lindisfarn  damsels  wiih  Mr.  Mat.  It 
•was  nearly  half-past  one  before  they  arrived  ; 
and  there  was  a  chorus  of  outcry  at  their  un- 
punctuality. 

"  Not  like  you,  Kate,  to  be  the  laggard  ! 
And  it  was  to  be  one  o'clock,  military  time. 
We  have  already  had  the  first  of  our  course 
of  lectures,"  said  Lady  Farnleigh. 

"  Ah  !  I  was  not  on  Birdie,  you  see,  god- 
mamma.  When  I  am,  I  can  answer  for  my 
time.  But  we  had  to  come  all  round  by  Sil- 
verton  ;  and  Thomas  must  be  answerable  for 
the  delay." 

"  Tiiomas  is  as  regular  as  clockwork  ;  and 
if  you  had  started  in  time,  you  would  have 
been  here  in  time,"  rejoined  the  doctor,  not 
in  the  best  possible  humor,  though  he  had 
no  longer  reason  for  being  anxious  to  begin 
the  day's  amusement  punctually. 

"Well,  uncle,  we  will  behave  better  another 
time." 

"  No,  no,  put  the  saddle  on  the  right  horse," 
said  Mv.  Mat ;  "  Thomas  Tibbs  is  no  way  in 
foult ;  nor  is  Miss  Kate.  We  had  to  •wait 
half  an  hour  for  Miss  Margaret." 

"  Why,  I  am  sure  we  came  down  together  ; 
didn't  we,  Kate?  "  said  Margaret,  blushing 
very  red,  and  shooting  at  Mr.  Mat  out  of 
those  fine  black  eyes  of  hers  a  look  of  which 
it  might  have  been  said  not  only  in  the  Yan- 


77 

kee  tongue,  but  in  good  English,  that  it  was 
"  a  caution  !  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  abominable  Mr.  Mat, 
■quietly  ;  "  you  came  down  the  stairs  to- 
gether, because  Kate  waited  for  you.  But  it 
was  you  and  not  Kate,  who  tried  on  tliree 
dresses  before  you  could  please  yourself. 
Ask  Simmons  else." 

"There  never  was  half  an  hour  spent  to 
better  purpose,  if  Simmons  spoke  the  truth," 
whispered  Frederick,  at  Margaret's  side. 
'•  What  a  lovely  toilet  i  " 

"  Do  you  like  it?  Then  I  am  sure  I  don't 
mind  how  long  I  kept  that  old  bear  waiting," 
returned  Margaret,  in  the  same  tone;  "not 
that  what  he  says  ib  true,  though.  But  is 
he  not  an  insufferable  old  nuisance?  " 

"  Our  likings  agree,"  said  he  ;  "  Mr.  Mat 
is  a  particular  aversion  of  mine ;  and  he 
knows  it  well  enough.  There  is  no  love  lost 
between  us.  Strangely  enough,  your  sister 
is  fond  of  him." 

"Oh,  Kate  is  so  odd, — so  odd  in  many 
things.  I  am  afraid  she  and  I  shall  find 
many  points  of  difference  between  us." 

"  It  will  bo  a  great  advantage  to  your  sis- 
ter— your  return  home.  Miss  Lindisfarn. 
If  she  would  endeavor  to  form  her  manner 
from  yours,  it  would  be  everything  to  her." 

"  Of  course  I  have  had  great  advantages, 
which  poor  Kate  has  not  shared.  But  I 
flatter  myself  that  the  generality  of  the 
good  people  here  are  not  so  capable  as  some 
persons"  (eye  practice!)  "of  seeing  the  de- 
ficiencies." 

"  Would  you  be  better  pleased  for  her 
sake,  that  all  the  people  here  should  be  blind 
to  the  differences  between  you,  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite?" 

"  i  am  afraid  that  would  tax  my  charity 
too  severely,"  answered  she,  in  a  tone  so 
low  that  it  was  almost  a  whisper.  Then 
she  added,  in  a  rather,  but  very  little,  loud- 
er voice,  "  You  called  me  Marguerite  !  You 
are  the  only  person  here  that  does.  I  like 
it  so  much  better  than  that  odious  Margaret, 
as  they  call  it  !  Do  call  me  always  Mar- 
guerite." Whether  this  was  to  be  taken 
as  a  permission  to  call  her  by  her  Christian 
name,  or  merely  as  a  request  to  be  addressed 
in  French  instead  of  in  English,  she  skilfully 
left  it  to  the  gentleman  himself  to  decide. 

Then,  it  having  been  resolved  by  general 
vote  that  one  portion  of  the  avowed  business 


78 

of  the  day  should  be  done  before  going  to 
luncheon,  and  that  it  would  be  very  pleasant 
to  break  their  archaeological  investigations  by 
that  agreeable  diversion,  the  doctor  arose, 
and  proceeded  to  unroll  a  large  plan  which 
he  had  brought  with  him,  while  most  of  the 
party  crowded  around  him. 

"  Where  is  Margaret?  "  cried  the  doctor  ; 
"  Margaret,  my  love  ;  here  is  your  place,  by 
my  side.  You  are  to  be  my  fellow-laborer, 
you  know,  in  illustrating  the  Friary  as  it 
deserves." 

Margaret  groaned  softly,  and  looked  up 
into  Frederick  Falconer's  face  with  an  ap- 
pealing expression  of  intense  annoyance  in 
her  eyes,  which  made  them  look  lovelier,  he 
thought,  than  he  had  ever  seen  them  yet,  as 
she  said,  "  I  must  go,  I  suppose  !  It  is  very 
provoking.  Mind,  I  trust  to  you  to  save  me 
from  this  horrid  bore,  if  any  chance  of  ex- 
tricating me  should  offer." 

"  Would  that  I  could,"  whispered  Fred. 

And  then  the  doctor,  with  his  victim  by 
his  side,  unrolled  his  topographical  plan,  and 
began  : — 

"  The  plan  of  the  actually  existing  build- 
ings,— ^just  put  your  hand  on  the  paper,  my 
dear,  to  hold  it  open,  so  that  they  may  all 
Bee  it ;  " — Margaret,  admirably  prompt  to 
extract  from  unfavorable  circumstances  all 
the  little  good  they  might  be  capable  of 
yielding,  laid  a  beautifully  white  and  slender 
hand,  with  long,  slender  fingers,  flat  on  the 
paper,  taking  off  her  glove  for  the  purpose, 
as  if  the  service  demanded  of  her  could  not 
have  been  performed  otherwise ;  and  the 
doctor  proceeded  : — 

"  The  plan  of  the  modei'n  part  of  the  act- 
ually existing  buildings  has  been  traced  here 
in  black,  while  that  of  those  portions  of  the 
ancient  monastery  which  have  perished  has, 
as  tar  as  it  has  been  possible  to  discover  the 
position  of  them,  been  laid  down  in  red  lines. 
The  part  of  the  plan  colored  green  repre- 
sents those  portions  of  the  actually  existing 
house  which  were  part  of  the  original  build- 
ing. It  will  be  at  once  perceived,  therefore, 
that  the  entire  wing,  including  the  drawing- 
room  in  which  we  are  at  this  moment  assem- 
bled, is  of  modern  construction, — compara- 
tively modern  that  is  to  say,  dating  probably 
from  the  early  part  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury." 

"  I  am  sure  you  will  forgive  me,  my  good 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


doctor,  for  interrupting  you,"  said  Mr.  Fal- 
coner, "  but  it  is  impossible  to  hear  that 
statement  laid  down  in  so  unqualified  a  man- 
ner, without  pointing  out  that  there  are 
grave  doubts" — 

"  Thank  you.  Falconer,"  cried  the  doctor, 
turning  on  him  with  the  aspect  of  a  boar 
brought  to  bay,  "  I  am  perfectly  aware  of 
all  that  you  would  say.  I  said  probably — 
probably  from  the  beginning  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.  We  shall  go  more  accu- 
rately into  the  examination  of  that  question, 
when  we  shall  have  brought  our  investiga- 
tions down  to  that  time.  You  will  become 
aware  of  the  advantage  of  chronological 
treatraeut  in  matters  of  this  kind,  when  you 
have  applied  your  distinguished  erudition  to 
more  of  them.     Allow  me  to  proceed." 

Mr.  Falconer  was  a  man  of  bland  manners, 
and  particularly  prided  himself  on  suavity 
of  demeanor  a  toute  epreuve.  But  those  of 
the  party  who  knew  him  well  were  made 
aware  by  a  little  vibratory  motion  of  his 
pig-tail,  that  he  was  restraining  himself  from 
giving  way  to  his  indignation  with  difficulty. 
He  succeeded,  however,  so  far  as  to  permit 
no  outward  demonstration  of  the  tempest 
that  was  raging  within  him  to  appear,  be- 
yond a  satirical  smile,  as,  having  first  soothed 
his  nervous  system  with  a  pinch  of  snuff,  he 
said, — 

"I  bide  my  time  then,  doctor  !  " 

"I  was  about  to  point  out  to  you,"  re- 
sumed the  doctor,  "  that  only  the  kitchens, 
the  pantry,  the  small  room  adjoining  the 
kitchen  on  the  south  side,  used,  I  believe,  by 
the  late  owners  as  the  housekeeper's  room, 
and  possibly  still  appropriated  to  the  same 
purpose" —  The  doctor  paused,  and  di- 
rected an  inquiring  glance  at  Miss  Merriton, 
thereby  causing  his  hearers  to  do  the  same, 
to  the  exceeding  annoyance  and  discomfiture 
of  that  little  lady,  who  had  been  surrepti- 
tiously engaged  in  the  background  in  condol- 
ing in  whispered  accents  with  Lady  Sempro- 
nia  on  some  of  that  lady's  trials.  She  felt 
like  a  schoolboy,  who  has  been  suddenly 
"  set  on  "  at  the  moment  when,  having  been 
absorbed  in  the  pages  of  a  novel  dexterously 
hidden  beneath  his  Virgil,  he  has  not  the  re- 
motest idea  of  "  the  place."  Lady  Sem- 
pronia  would  have  prompted  her,  but  was 
no  better  informed  of  the  matter  in  hand 
than  herself. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE.  79 

«' The  room  next  the  kitchen,"  Buid  Lady  gle's  work.  But  Battledore,  in  his  '  Pere- 
Farnlcigh  ;  "is  it  still  the  housekeeper's  :  grinations  and  Pcrlustrations  of  tlie  Valley  of 
room  ?  "  the  Sill ' — a  somewhat  rare  work,  which  you 

"  Yes,  tliat  is  the  housekeeper's  room.  Is  ;  probably  have  never  seen.  Falconer,  for  a 
she  wanted?"  asked  poor  Miss  Merriton ,  sadly  i  small  edition  only  was  privately  printed  ;  but 
fluttered.  I  shall  have  much  pleasure  in  showing  you  a 

"  Not  yet.  Not  at  present,  thanks,"  re- 1  copy, — Battledore  clearly  shows  that  the  build- 
sumed  the  doctor.     "  The  housekeeper's  room  i  ing  which  had  existed  on  those  foundations 


— 1  was  saying  that  the  kitchens,  the  pantry, 
the  housekeeper's  room,  and  the  northwest 
and  northeast  walls  of  the  present  dining- 
room,  or  part  of  them  at  least,  are  the  only 
portions  of  the  present  house  which  belong  to 
the  ancient  monastery." 

But  at  that  point  of  his  discourse  ;>CBnape£?e 
claudo  overtook  the  doctor.  The  bland  but 
inly  raging  old  banker  had  bided  iiis  time,  as 
he  said,  and  found  it ! 

"Excuse me,  doctor,"  he  cried,  pushing  for- 
ward to  the  front  of  the  little  group  to  lay  his 
fingers  on  the  plan  ;  "  excuse  me  if  I  say  that 
I  feel  sure  the  time  will  come  when  your  per- 
severing studies  will  convince  you  of  the 
danger  of  laxity  of  statement  in  topograph- 
ical details.  The  only  parts  of  the  present 
house  included  in  the  old  monastery  !  What ! 
Is  there  not  the  wash-house?  One  of  the 
best  characterized  remnants  in  the  place  !  " 

"  Now,  uiy  dear  Falconer,  I  do  hope  that 
you  will  permit  me  to  proceed  with  my  state- 
ment of  the  facts.  I  am  well  aware,  of  course, 
that  the  foundation  of  the  wall  of  the  present 
wash-house  '' — 

"  You  know.  Dr.  Lindisfarn,  how  deep  a 
respect  I  entertain  for  the  profundity  of  your 
erudition  and  the  accuracy  of  your  research  ; 
but  I  must  be  permitted  to  say  that  any  one 
who  fails  to  see  at  a  glance  the  contempora- 
necusness  of  the  present  Avails  with  the  foun- 
dation on  which  they  stand,  must  be  igno- 
rant of  tlie  very  A  B  C  of  archjDeology  !  " 

"  I  know  no  man  for  whoseopinion  I  should 
have  a  greater  deference  on  a  matter  of  this 
kind  than  yours,  Mr.  Falconer.  But  really 
the  grossness  of  the  error  into  which  you  have 
fallen  upon  the  present  occasion  is  a  melan- 
choly warning  of  the  consequences  of  rash 
and  too  hasty  induction." 

"  Rasli  induction,  my  dear  doctor  !  I  find 
in  Priiigle's  '  Survey  of  the  Suppressed  Re- 
ligions Houses  of  the  Hundreds  of  Perribash 
and  Warliugcombc,'  a  plan,  which  gives  " — 

"  Indications  of  walls,  of  which  the  ancient 
foundations  still  remain  !  T  dare  say  you  do. 
I  flatter  myself  I  am  acquainted  with    Prin- 


was  in  ruins  in  his  time." 

Margaret,  who  all  this  time  had  been  duti- 
fully holding  open  her  uncle's  plan  with  her 
fair  hand  outspread  upon  it  in  the  manner 
which  has  been  described,  thinking  when  the 
dispute  between  the  rival  antiquaries  had 
reached  that  point,  either  that  her  services 
were  for  the  moment-  no  longer  needed,  or 
that  a  sufficient  time  had  been  allowed  for  all 
present  to  admire  the  beauty  of  her  hand, 
withdrew  it  from  the  paper,  which  immedi- 
ately rolled  itself  up  against  the  fingers  of  the 
dov-*or,  who  had  been  holding  it  on  the  other 
side.  Margaret,  who  was  already  gently 
withdrawing  herself  from  the  prominent  posi- 
tion she  had  been  made  to  occupy  at  her 
uncle's  side,  feared  that  the  coiling  up  of  the 
paper  would  draw  his  attention  to  her  deser- 
tion. But  she  need  not  have  alarmed  her- 
self. He  was  far  too  intent  on  the  battle 
which  had  begun  to  rage  to  think  about  any 
such  small  matters.  Feeling  t'le  pian  I'oll 
itself  up  into  a  baton,  he  grasped  it,  as  he 
turned  upon  his  adversary,  who  was  unpro- 
vided with  any  such  weapon. 

"  Very  cleverly  done,"  wliispeved  Freder- 
ick in  her  ear,  as  drawing  l)a(;k  from  the 
place  she  had  held,  she  found  Iiernelf  again 
by  his  side.  "And  now,  while  my  father  is 
telling  him  how  Shuttlecock  points  out  that 
Battledore  knew  nothing  at  all  aliout  it,  we 
may  escape." 

"  Have  you  any  idea  what  it  is  all  about?  " 
asked  Margaret,  confidentially. 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  woi'ld  !  Bat  I  hope 
the  fight  will  last  all  the  remainder  of  the  af- 
ternoon. It  wont  hurt  them  ;  and  it  will  be 
a  great  blessing  to  us.  Don't  you  think  we 
might  steal  out  upon  the  lawn  through  this 
open  window?  There  is  a  beautiful  gnien- 
house  ;  let  me  show  it  to  you,  while  the  war 
is  still  raging  over  the  foundation  of  the  wash- 
house." 

"  The  phrase  '  ruins,'  my  dear  doctor,'^ 
said  the  old  banker,  with  a  suiile  of  infinite 
superiority,  "is  a  very  vague  one.  In  this 
case  it  was,  in  all  probability,  used  by  the 


80  LINDISFARN    CHASE. 

•writer  whom  you  cite, — and  -who  is  perfectly    profit  by  investigating,  as  best  vre  may  by  the 
well  known  to  me,  though  I  have  not  much    light    of   nature,   that    charming    fragment 
opinion  of  the  reliability  of  his  work, — to  ex-   of  the  old  cloister  that  forms  the  northern 
press  the  condition  of  the  roof."     Here  the    boundary  of  your  lovely  flower-garden." 
old   gentleman  took   a   pinch  of  snuff,  and  |      "  That  is  the  only  bit  of  the  antiquities  of 
looked  round  on  the  bystanders  with  an  air  ,  the  Friary  that  I  care  about,"  said  Mr.  Mat ; 
which  seemed  to  call  their  attention  to  the  i  "  and  I  do  think  that  flower-garden  is   the 
fact  of  his  having  utterly  demolished  his  op-  ■  prettiest  spot  in  all  Sillshire." 
ponent.      "  But  with  regard  to  the  walls,"       "Don't  you  think  we  may  venture,  Miss 
he  continued,  "  I  think — I  do  think,  that  the  '  Merriton,  to  conduct  our  own  researches  in 
evidence  of  your  own  senses,  my  dear  doctor,    the   flower-garden    without   inquiring   what 
would  be  suflBcient  to  convince  you  that  they  \  Pringle  and  Battledore  have  written  upon 
are  of  the  same  date  as  the  foundations  on  \  the  subject?"  said  Lady  Farnleigh. 
which  they  rest.     If  our  kind  host  will  per-        "  If  Lady  Sempronia  feels  equal  to  stroll- 
mit  us  to  institute   an  examination  on  the  i  ing  so  far,"  said  Miss  Merriton,  turning  to 


spot" — 

"  Oh,  by  all  means,"  said  Mr.  Merriton  ; 
"  the  entire  house  is  at  your  disposition. 
If  you  will  step  this  way" — 

And  the  combatants  accordingly  followed 
him  to  the  back  part  of  the  house,  which 


that  plaintive  lady,  by  whose  side  she  was 
sitting  on  a  sofa,  listening  with  admirable 
patience  and  sympathy  to  the  tale  of  her  va- 
rious trials. 

"  I  am  afraid,"   said    Lady  Sempronia, 
whose  mind  was  full  of  the  impending  dan- 


stood  very  close  to  the  cliff  which  has  been  '  ger  that  the  doctor  might  be  stimulated  into 
described,  and  occupied  the  site  of  the  re-  composing  a  monograph  on  the  date  of  the 
fectory  and  adjoining  buildings — buttery,  i  Friary  wash-house,  "  I  am  afraid  that  I  must 
hatches,  and  so  forth — of  the  old  monastery,  j  not  venture  out  in  the  sun.  It  is  very  pow- 
But  it  may  be  feared  that  when  they  reached  erful  at  this  hour.  But  pray  do  not  let  me 
the  battle-ground  itself,  a  great  portion  of  [detain  you,  Miss  Merriton." 
the  interest  of  the  fight  was  lost.  Were  "But  perhaps  Lady  Farnleigh,  who  is 
there  ever  knights  who  would  not  have  taken  j  doubtless  far  more  competent  to  act  as  guide 
their  lances  from  their  rests,  and  ceased  pok-  i  than  I  am,  will  excuse  me.  If  she  would 
ing  each  other,  if  all  the  spectators  had  re-  j  kindly  undertake  the  office  of  cicerone  I  should 


tired  from  the  lists?  And  unhappily  not 
single  soul  of  those  assembled  in  the  draw- 
ing-room at  the  Friary  cared  sufiiciently  to 
know  when  the  wash-house  was  built  to  fol- 


prefer  remaining  indoors  myself,"  said  Miss 
Merriton. 

"  Oh  !  I  am  thoroughly  competent,  I  as- 
sure you,"  rejoined  Lady  Farnleigh.  "  If  I 
low  the  combatants.  There  was  still  Mr.  j  have  only  your  permission,  I  undertake  to 
Merriton  for  umpire,  and  the  dispute  had,  do  the  honors  of  the  gardens  on  ne  peut 
therefore,  to  be  carried  on  ;  but  it  is  permis-    mieux.''^ 

Bible  to  suppose  that  if  it  had  not  been  for  So  Lady  Farnleigh,  Kate,  Mr,  Mat  and 
his  presence  the  fight  would  have  languished.  Captain  Ellingham,  walked  out  into  the  gar- 
As  it  was,  the  remaining  members  of  the  '  den  by  the  same  window  through  which  Mar- 
party,  who  were  left  in  the  drawing-room, —  \  garet  and  Frederick  Falconer  had  passed. 
Lady  Farnleigh,  Miss  Merriton,  Lady  Sem-  |  The  latter  had,  however,  gone  into  the  con- 
pronia,  Kate,  Mr.  jNIat  and  Captain  EUing-  |  servatory,  which  occupied  the  space  of  some 
ham, — were  left  to  their  own  devices  by  the    forty  feet  between  the  house  and  the  frag- 


— it  is  to  be  feared,  not  unwelcome — diver- 
sion. 

"  We  must  not  regret,  Miss  Merriton," 
said  Lady  Farnleigh,  "that  the  great  ques- 


ment  of  the  ancient  cloister  to  which  Lady 
Farnleigh  had  alluded. 

The  flower-garden  in  question  was  worth  a 
visit ;  and  none  the  less  so  that  the  place  was 


tion  of  the  antiquity  of  your  wash-house,  I  well  known  to  all  the  pariie  carree  who  now 
which  seems  so  doubtful,  should  be  finally  '  entered  it,  except  Captain  Ellingham.  It  is 
set  at  rest,  as  it  no  doubt  will  now  be ;  al-  ,  indeed  as  lovely  a  spot  as  the  imagination 
though  we  are  deprived,  in  consequence  of  can  well  conceive.  Completely  shut  in  on 
the  difficulty,  of  the  benefit  of  the  doctor's  ,  the  Silverton  side  by  the  lofty  jutting  lime- 
guidance.    I  propose  that  we  put  the  time  to  [  stone  cliff,  close  round  the  base  of  which  the 


water  ran  in  a  deeper  and  swifter  stream 
than  in  any  other  part  of  its  course,  it  was 
enclosed  on  the  side  opposite  to  the  front  of 
the  house  by  the  river,  the  opposite  bank  of 
which  was  fringed  with  a  luxuriant  planta- 
tion of  rhododendrons  all  the  way  from  the 
private  bridge  leading  to  the  village,  to  the 
spot  where  it  disappeared  round  the  cliff. 
Over  the  top  of  this  jBourishing  plantation 
the  spire  of  Weston  church  was  visible  and 
behind  it  the  higher  and  more  distant  parts 
of  tiie  broken  open  ground,  with  its  patches  of 
broom,  which  intervened  between  the  valley 
of  the  Sill  and  the  woods  belonging  to  the 
Chase,  and  behind  them  again  an  horizon 
formed  by  the  lofty  summit  of  Lindisfarn 
brow. 

On  the  opposite  side  to  the  river,  the 
flower-garden  was  shut  in  by  the  house,  by 
the  conservatory, — one  end  of  which  abutted 
on  it, — and  by  the  qld  fragment  of  cloister, 
consisting  of  three  arches,  and  a  small  por- 
tion of  the  back  wall  of  the  cloister,  which 
had,  however,  been  restored  and  completed 
by  masonry  of  recent  construction,  and  on 
which  the  other  end  of  the  conservatory 
rested.  The  three  isolated  arches  of  crumb- 
ling gray  stone,  standing  thus  on  the  exqui- 
sitely kept  sward  of  the  lawn,  and  serving  as 
a  support  for  a  variety  of  flowering  creepei'S, 
were  the  pride  and  beauty  of  the  garden. 
They  stood  at  right  angles,  as  will  be  under- 
stood, if  I  have  succeeded  in  rendering  the 
above  account  of  the  locality  intelligible,  to 
that  face  of  the  cliff  which  shut  in  the  gar- 
den ;  and  which,  itself  richly  clothed  with  a 
wilder  and  more  exuberant  growth  of  coarser 
creeping  plants,  was  so  beautiful  an  object 
as  to  make  it  questionable  whether  man's 
handiwork  or  nature's  had  contributed  most 
to  the  ornament  of  the  little  paradise  encir- 
cled by  them  both.  The  remaining  side  of 
the  enclosed  space — that  looking  toward  the 
upper  valley  of  the  Sill  and  the  pasture 
ground  on  its  banks,  which  was  once  the 
home  farm  of  the  monastery,  and  now  the 
park  attached  to  the  modern  residence — was 
only  partially  shut  in  by  plantations,  of 
horse-chestnut  and  birch  chiefly,  so  as  to 
leave  peeps  of  the  distant  view  in  this  direc- 
tion. 

"  I  do  think  Mr.  Mat  is  right,"  said  Kate, 
as  they  all  four  stood  on  the  lawn  in  front  of 
the  three  old  arches,  which  were  probably  in- 
debted fur  their  preservation,  so  many  years 

G 


NDISFARN    CHASE  81 

after  the  destruction  of  their  fellows,  to  the 
support  and  protection  derived  from  the  cliff 
against  which  the  last  of  them  rested.  "  1 
do  tliink  this  is  the  prettiest  spot  altogcthei 
that  I  ever  saw." 

"  It  really  is  a  most  perfect  thing  in  its 
way,"  said  Captain  Ellingham,  who,  to  tell 
the  truth,  though  nobody  but  Lady  Farnloig! 
had  observed  it,  had  been  in  not  the  best  of 
all  possible  humors  since  they  had  arrived  at 
the  Friary  ;  for,  instead  of  attending  to  the 
doctor's  exordium  as  he  ought  to  have  done, 
he  had  been  watching  Margaret — that"  most 
beautiful  creature  he  had  ever  seen  in  his 
life  " — and  all  her  ways  and  works,  and  he 
did  not  like  wdiat  he  had  seen.  He  was  not 
pleased  with  the  incident  arising  from  the 
tardiness  of  their  arrival.  Not  that  he  in 
the  least  blamed  Margaret  for  the  delay  of 
the  half-hour  employed  in  the  trying-on  of 
three  dresses  ;  for  he  agreed  with  Falconer  in 
thinking,  though  he  had  not  said  it,  that  the 
result  produced  was  well  worth  the  time  em- 
ployed to  realize  it.  But  he  had  not  been 
pleased  with  her  allowing  the  blame  to  be  cast 
on  her  sister,  and  still  less  with  a  certain  ex- 
pression of  face  which  he  had  noted  when 
Mr.  Mat  had  so  brutally  betrayed  her  secret. 
Then  again,  though  he  had  much  admired 
the  exquisite  little  hand,  so  skilfully  laid  out 
(literally)  for  admiration  on  the  doctor's  to- 
pographical plan,  he  had  most  ungratefully 
felt  annoyed  at  her  for  the  manner  of  the  ex- 
hibition of  it.  And  it  cannot  perhaps  be  said 
that  he  was  altogether  unreasonable  in  with- 
holding his  entire  approbation  in  either  case. 
But  he  was  far  more  displeased  at  certain 
other  things  that  had  fallen  within  the  scope 
of  his  observation,  with  which  he  really  had 
no  right  to  find  fault.  He  had  noted  all  the 
little  by-play  and  whispering  with  Falconer, 
and  had  judged  it  from  a  stand-point  of  moral 
criticism  which  his  judgment  would  hardly 
have  placed  itself  on,  if  he  had  been  himself 
the  culprit  in  Falconer's  place.  He  had 
marked  also  her  escape  out  of  the  window, 
followed  by  him  ;  and  it  sufficed  to  bring  his 
indignation  and  his  ill-humor  to  its  climax. 
And  although  tlic  sins  she  had  been  guilty  of 
would  only  have  confirmed  him  in  the  opin- 
ion that  she  certainly  was  one  of  the  sweetest 
creatures  on  earth,  if  he  instead  of  another 
had  been  the  accomplice  of  them,  as  it  was, 
he  began  to  ask  himself  whether  Lady  Farn- 
leigh  had  not  been  right,  when  she  called 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


him  a  goose  in  the  carriage  as  they  were  re- 
turning from  the  Chase. 

The  honorable  Captain  Ellingham,  though 
doubtless,  as  Fred  Falconer  had  said,  a  very 
meritorious  officer,  was,  it  is  very  clear,  a 
quite  exceptionably  unreasonable  man  when 
the  question  was  one,  not  of  haulyards  and 
marling-spikes,  but  of  pretty  girls. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
THE  "  NOSEY  STONE." 

Captain  Ellingham's  ill-temper  was  be- 
ginning to  give  way  before  the  influences  of 
the  charming  scene  around  him,  and  the 
thoroughly  good-tempered,  joyous,  and  open- 
hearted  enjoyment  of  it  by  his  companions  ; 
and  he  was  gradually  coming  rouna  more  and 
more  to  the  opinion  that  Lady  Farnleigh  had 
expressed  as  to  the  merits  of  the  Lindisfarn 
lasses,  and  as  to  his  appreciation  of  them, 
when  a  circumstance  occurred,  which,  though 
it  suddenly  changed  the  immediate  current  of 
all  his  thoughts,  yet  eventually  operated  to 
complete  Captain  Ellingham's  conversion  to 
his  old  friend's  opinion. 

The  face  of  Weston  Rock,  as  the  cliff 
which  has  been  so  frequently  mentioned  was 
called  by  the  educated  classes— though  the 
country-people  generally  nicknamed  it  the 
"  Nosey  Stone,"  from  the  manner  in  which 
it  stood  out  from  the  hillside  behind  it— the 
face  of  Weston  Rock,  which  looks  toward 
Silverton,  is,  though  very  steep,  not  alto- 
gether precipitous.  The  most  prominent 
part  of  it, — the  ridge  of  the  nose,  as  it  were, 
— which  is  washed  at  its  base  by  the  river, 
is  for  more  than  half  of  the  height  from  the 
water  a  naked  and  absolutely  precipitous 
rock.  The  upper  portion  of  this  side  of  the 
cliff  above  this  naked  wall  of  rock  is  very  little 
less  steep  ;  but  it  is  covered  with  a  growth 
of  creeping  plants,  which  do  not,  however, 
sufficiently  lessen  its  precipitous  character  to 
render  it  possible  for  any  human  foot  to  traverse 
it.  On  the  other  face  of  the  cliff,  that  which 
overhangs  and  forms  the  boundary  of  the  Fri- 
ary gardens,  the  lower  portion  of  the  height 
is  nearly  as  steep  as  that  which  overhangs 
the  river  ;  but  it  is  not,  like  that,  utterly  de- 
void of  inequalities  on  the  surface  and  ledges, 
which  in  some  degree  break  the  face  of  it. 
The  upper  portion  on  this  side  is  not  so  en- 
tirely precipitous  ;  it  is  covered  not  only  with 
a  profusion  of  creeping  plants,  the  long  trail- 
ing branches  of  which  hang  down  over  the 


lower  part,  but  over  a  considerable  portion 
of  its  surface  with  patches  and  tufts  of  mnk, 
coarse  grass  and  herbage.  So  that  it  is  pos- 
sible on  that  side  to  descend  from  the  top  by  the 
aid  of  the  partial  foothold ,  and  the  vigorous  veg- 
etation of  the  creepers.  Nevertheless,  consid- 
ering that  any  one  attempting  such  a  feat 
has  some  seventy  or  eighty  feet  of  utterly 
unclimbable  precipice  beneath  him,  the  edge 
of  which  he  is  approaching  as  he  descends, 
and  bearing  in  mind  that  the  crumbling  of 
a  tuft  of  couch-grass,  or  the  breaking  of  a 
twig,  may  accelerate  his  approach  to  its  edge 
in  such  sort  as  to  hurry  him  over  it,  the  de- 
scent of  the  Nosey  Stone,  even  on  this  its 
least  terrible  side,  is  an  undertaking  in  which 
one  would  not  wish  unnecessarily  to  engage. 

The  little  party  standing  on  the  lawn  in 
front  of  the  old  cloister  arches,  and  conse- 
quently within  a  few  feet  of  that  face  of  the 
cliff  which  has  been  last  mentioned,  were  speak- 
ing, as  everybody  always  does  speak  in  such 
cases,  of  the  exceeding  knowingness  exhib- 
ited by  the  monks  in  the  choice  of  their  situa- 
tions,— how  sure  they  always  were  to  select 
the  choice  bits  of  all  the  country-side  for  their 
homesteads,  and  how  perfectly  well  they  un- 
derstood all  the  points  that  go  toward  mak- 
ing any  spot  specially  eligible  for  a  habita- 
tion,— when  suddenly  they  were  startled  by  a 
rustle,  a  rush  among  the  brushwood  on  the 
face  of  the  cliff  above  their  heads,  and  in  the 
next  moment  the  fall  of  a  heavy  substance 
with  a  dead  sounding  thud  on  the  turf  of  the 
lawn  at  their  feet.  It  was  a  young  lamb ; 
and  it  lay  on  its  side,  giving  only  one  or  two 
convulsive  movements  with  its  hind  legs — 
for  the  fall  had  killed  it. 

"  Poor  little  thing!  "  said  Kate,  running 
forward,  and  stooping  over  it  to  see  if  it  was 
indeed  dead  ;  "  it  must  have  strayed  from  the 
mother  in  the  field  above.  I  think  it  is  dead  ; 
look,  Mr.  Mat,  see  if  the  fall  has  quite  killed 
it." 

"  Killed  it,  sure  enough,"  said  Mr.  Mat ; 
"  lambs  don't  fall  as  cats  do !  " 

"  It  is  well  for  it,  poor  little  beast,  that  it 
is  killed,"  said  Captain  Ellingham,  "  for  of 
course  its  bones  must  be  broken." 

Just  then  Margaret  and  Falconer  emerged 
from  the  conservatory,  where  they  also  had 
heard  and  been  startled  by  the  noise  of  the 
fall.  They  came  forward  toward  the  spot 
where  the  others  were  gathered  round  the  body 
of  the  unlucky  little  animal,  with  an  eagernesa 


of  inq  uiry  as  to  what  the  matter  was,  and 
what  had  happened,  which  had  somewhat  the 
appearance  of  being  in  a  certain  measure 
prompted  by  a  feeling  of  the  desirability  of 
diverting  the  attention  of  the  party  away 
from  their  own  simultaneous  re-appearance, 
after  their  period  of  retirement. 

"  Good  gracious!  "  cried  Margaret,  when 
the  nature  of  the  accident  had  been  ex- 
plained to  her,  "  what  a  mercy  it  is  the  crea- 
ture did  not  tumble  on  any  of  our  heads! 
It  might  have  killed  us  on  the  spot !  " 

But  as  Margaret  uttered  the  words,  mor- 
alizing the  event  after  her  own  fashion,  Cap- 
tain Ellinghaiu  suddenly  cried,  "  hush  !  " 
lifting  his  fingeras  he  spuke ;  "  Hush  !  I 
thought  I  heard  a  voice  up  there !  Yes ! 
there  it  is  again, — a  sob,  as  of  a  child  cry- 
ing. Is  there  any  possibility  that  a  child 
sliould  be  on  the  face  of  the  cliff?  " 

'•  Hardly,*'  said  Mr.  Mat  ;  "  more  likely 
the  voice  you  heard  was  from  the  top.  Very 
likely  some  little  shepherd  or  shepherdess, 
who  has  discovered  the  misfortune  that  has 
betided  one  of  the  flock." 

"  God  grant  the  child,  if  it  be  one,  may 
not  come  too  close  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff!  " 
said  Lady  farnleigh.  "It  is  a  dangerous 
place.  And  it  strikes  me  that,  unless  the 
voice  were  quite  at  the  very  edge  of  the  prec- 
ipice, it  could  not  be  heard  here." 

"  So  I  should  say,  too,"  replied  EUingham. 
"  And  yet  I  can  hear  it  now, — evidently 
the  voice  of  a  child  crying.  Hist !  Do  you 
not  hear  it?  " 

"  There !  Oh,  yes  !  To  be  sure  I  do.  It 
is  a  child  crying." 

"  Yes  !  I  can  hear  it,  too,  now,  very  plainly. 
I  think  it  must  have  come  nearer,"  said  Lady 
Farnleigh. 

"  What  can  we  do  to  find  out  where  it  is  ?" 
cried  Kate,  turning  to  Captain  EUingham, 
who  was  still  bending  his  ear  to  catch  the 
sounds  that  were  at  one  moment  more,  and 
at  another  less,  distinctly  audible. 

"  Do  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  Sillshire 
always  go  into  committee  instantly  on  the 
spot  every  time  a  little  (jamin  cries,  to  inves- 
tigate the  cause  of  the  phenomenon?  "  said 
Margaret,  tittering. 

"Yes,  they  duP''  cried  Mr.  Mat,  turning 
on  her  fiercely,  and  speaking  in  his  broadest 
Doric;  "yes,  they  du.  Miss  Margy,  when 
'tis  at  the  voot  of  the  Nosey  stoan  they  hear 


NDISFARN    CHASE.  83 

it !  Why,  the  poor  child  may  be  zcarching 
for  the  lamb  to  the  top  of  the  cliff,  and  come 
to  vail  over  in  the  zame  manner,  he  might !  " 

"  I  believe,"  said  Captain  EUingham,  who 
had  been  attentively  listening,  "  that  the 
voice  must  be  on  the  face  of  the  cliff;  I  do 
not  think  we  could  hear  it  as  we  do,  if  it  was 
from  anybody  on  the  top.  The  sound  would 
be  too  much  impeded  by  the  intervening  mass 
of  the  hill,  which  prevents  a. person  on  the 
top  from  being  visible." 

And  as  he  spoke.  Captain  EUingham  drew 
back  from  the  face  of  the  cliff  toward  the 
bank  of  the  river,  in  order  to  be  able  to  scan 
the  whole  surface  of  it  with  his  eye.  If  the 
cliff  had  been  naked,  it  would  have  been  of 
course  easy  to  do  this  in  an  instant ;  but  the 
overgrowth  of  creepers,  and  brambles  and 
brushwood  was  in  some  parts  quite  abundant 
enough  to  hide  a  child  or  even  a  man  among 
it.  But  after  carefully  and  earnestly  gazing 
for  a  minute  or  two.  Captain  EUingham  cried 
out, — 

"  Yes  !  yes !  I  think  I  see  him,  or  her, 
whichever  it  is  !  " 

"Where,  where?"  cried  Kate,  running 
out  from  under  the  cliff  to  the  place  where 
EUingham  was  standing,  still  intently  exam- 
ining the  face  of  the  rock. 

"  There  :  a  couple  of  fathom  or  so  above 
the  line  where  the  vegetation  ends  and  the 
naked  rock  begins.  Do  you  see  a  large  patch 
of  yellow  flowers  ?  Lift  your  eyes  in  a  per- 
pendicular line  from  the  spot  where  the  con- 
servatory joins  the  old  arches  of  the  cloister, 
till  you  come  to  a  noticeable  clump  of  yellow 
flowers  " — 

"  Yes,  oh,  yes !  "  cried  Kate,  doing  as  she 
was  bid  ;  "  I  have  them  !  " 

"  AVell,  just  above  and  a  little  to  the  right 
of  that  clump  of  flowers,  I  saw  the  bushes 
move,  and  I  am  almost  sure  that  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  dress  !  " 

"  But,  good  Heaven!  ''  cried  Kate,  turn- 
ing pale,  "  if  there  is  a  child,  or  even  a  man 
there,  how  are  they  to  get  away?     They  • 
must  be  in  fearful  danger !  " 

"It  is  a  child's  voice  —  and  I  think  a 
girl's,"  said  EUingham. 

Good  Heaven  !  What  is  to  be  done?" 
asked  Lady  Farnleigh,  looking  in  a  scared 
manner  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  two  gentle- 
men ; — the  two  ;  for,  though  there  were  three 
present  on  the  lawn  since  Falconer  had  come 


84 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


out  of  the  conservatory  with  Margaret,  her 
eyes  seemed  to  confine  her  appeal  to  Mr.  Mat 
and  Captain  EUingham. 

"  'Tis  a  bad  place  to  get  tu,"  said  Mr. 
Mat.  "  She,  ev  it  is  a  girl,  might  get  tu  the 
top  the  zame  way  she  got  down  ;  though 
perhaps  she  might  vind  it  difficult  to  du  so. 
But  the  worst  is,  that  mayhap  she  don't 
know — pretty  zure,  indeed,  she  don't  know — 
that  the  naked  rock  is  ten  or  a  dozen  veet 
below  her.  And  ev  she  goes  on  pushing  and 
moving  among  the  bushes,  she  may  vail  any 
minute.  Ev  she  would  remain  quite  still 
till  we  could  get  to  her  with  ladder  and 
tackle,  we  might  take  her  off  the  cliff  safe 
enough." 

"  But  how  could  she  ever  have  got  there, 
Mr.  Mat?"  asked  Kate,  in  much  distress; 
"  do  you  think  she  fell  over  the  edge  of  the 
cliff?" 

"  No  !  Depend  upon  it  she  clambered 
down  after  the  lamb  that  we  saw  vail.  It 
is  not  so  very  difficult  to  get  down  by  help 
of  the  bushes,  and  climb  up  again,  ev  you 
know  what  you  are  about,  and  what  sort  of 
place  it  is.  I've  been  all  over  the  vace  of 
the  cliff  after  bird's-nests  and  blackberries, 
wh<»n  I  was  a  boy,  time  and  again.  She  is 
uncommonly  near  the  top  of  the  naked  rock 
though  !  And  if  she  comes  down  a;ny  lower, 
God  help  her!  " 

"  Shall  I  try  to  hail  her?  We  could  make 
her  hear  well  enough  ;  but  it  is  a  question 
whether  we  may  not  frighten  her." 

"  Had  you  not  better  send  a  servant  to 
the  village,  and  tell  the  people  to  go  and 
look  after  the  child?  "  said  Margaret. 

"Tell  ye  what,"  said  Mr.  Mat,  "better 
let  me  try  to  speak  to  her.  She'll  under- 
stand our  Zillshire  speach  better.  I  should 
be  less  likely  to  frighten  her  than  you.  If 
we  can  only  make  her  keep  herself  quite 
quiet  till  we  can  como  tu  her,  it  will  be  all 
right  enough." 

"There!  there!  now  I  see  her  plain 
enough,"  cried  Captain  EUingham;  "  it  is 
a  little  girl  sure  enough !  I  see  her  red 
dress." 

"  If  she  don't  bide  still,  it  is  all  up  with 
her  !  She  moved  a  couple  of  voot  neai-er 
the  top  of  the  bare  rock  then  !  " 

' '  Good  Heaven  ! ' '  cried  Lady  Farnleigh  ; 
"  call  to  her,  Mr.  Mat!  call  to  her,  at  all 
hazards !  tell  her  not  to  move  hand  or  foot 


for  her  life  !  I  see  the  poor  little  thing  plain 
enough  ;  Do  you  not  see,  Kate  '' — 

And  she  turned,  as  she  spoke,  to  where 
Kate  had  been  standing  on  the  lawn  ;  but 
Kate  was  no  longer  there.  They  liad  all 
been  looking  up  eagerly  to  the  face  of  the 
cliff,  and  neither  EUingham  nor  Mr.  Mat  had 
seen  her  go. 

"  Kate  is  gone  into  the  house,"  said  Mar- 
garet ;  "  she  ran  off  without  saying  a  word. 
No  doubt  she  has  gone  to  tell  the  servants." 

Mr.  Mat,  putting  his  hands  to  his  mouth 
so  as  to  make  them  serve,  as  far  as  might 
be,  the  purpose  of  a  speaking  trumpet,  hal- 
looed to  the  child,  whom  they  could  all  now 
see  perfectly  well,  to  remain  quite  still  ;  to 
take  the  best  hold  she  could  on  the  biggest 
bushes  near  her,  and  hold  on  without  at- 
tempting to  budge  till  help  could  reach 
her. 

But  while  he  was  calling  to  her — whether 
or  not  it  may  have  been  that  she  was  startled 
by  the  voice  from  underneath  her — she  made 
another  movement,  which  brought  her  two 
or  three  feet  nearer  to  the  limit  of  the 
bushes,  and  to  the  commencement  of  the 
bare  rock — and  certain  destruction. 

Lady  Farnleigh  covered  her  eyes  with  her 
hand,  and  uttered  a  shuddering  cry. 

"By  Heaven?  she  will  be  killed  before 
our  eyes!"  cried  Mr.  Mat.  "You  run. 
Falconer  !  run  for  your  life  to  the  top  of  the 
cliff,  by  the  path  on  the  other  side — you 
know,  the  path  from  Weston  water-meads 
up  to  Shapton  farm  ; — and  get  down  to  the 
child  by  the  bushes.  You'll  be  faster  than 
me  ;  and  111  be  trying  to  get  at  her  from 
below.     Run  for  dear  life,  lad  !  " 

But  as  ha  spoke,  and  while  Lady  Farnleigh 
was  wringing  her  hands  in  distress,  Miss 
Margaret  was  so  overcome  by  her  feelings 
that  she  suddenly  threw  herself  backwards 
into  Frederick  Falconer's  arms,  and  went  off 
incontinently  into  violent  hysterics. 

"It  is  impossible  that  I  can  leave  IMiss 
Lindisfarn  in  this  state,"  replied  he,  to  Mr. 
Mat's  appeal ;  "  impossible,  or  I  would  go 
at  once." 

"  Oh  !  don't  leave  me!  for  pity's  sake  don't 
leave  me  !  "  shrieked  the  young  lady,  open- 
ing her  fine  eyes  for  a  moment — just  long 
enough  to  shoot  up  into  the  face  which  was 
hanging  over  her  a  glance  which  was  not 
altogether  hysterical  in  its  espression, — ac- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE.  85 

cording,  at  least,  to  the  strictly  incdicul  view    was,  he  started  off  to  make  his  way  to  the 
of  such  matters.  place. 

"  Put  the  lass  down  with  her  back  on  the  {  "  Take  the  gardener  with  you,  Arthur,  to 
turf!  "  said  Mr.  Mat, — in  extreme  disgust;  ^  show  you  the  path  up  the  cliff,  and  the  spot 
"  put  the  lass  down  ! — what  hurt  can  she  at  the  top  from  which  you  must  try  the  de- 
take? — and  see  if  you  can  help  to  save  this  scent,"  said  little  Miss  Merriton,  with  quiet 
poor  child's  life  !  "  'presence    of  mind.     "And   make   him   run 

"  Oh  !  don't  leave  me  !  don't  leave  me  !  "  j  his  best.     You  can  run  well,  Arthur." 
sobbed  Miss  Margaret.  And  then,  quietly  stepping  into  the  house, 

"Not  for  all  the  world,"  replied  Freddy,  '  she   called  all  the  men-servants  and  maids, 
in  an  intensely  expressive  whisper,  with  eye   and  set  them  to  work  to  drag  out  feather-beds 
expression  to  match.     "  It  is  impossible  for   and  mattresses,  and  spread  them  at  the  foot 
me  to  leave  her,"  he  said  aloud,  in  answer  to  j  of  the  cliff. 
Mr.  Mat ;  "  don't  you  see  that  it  is?  "  "  In  case  the  poor  little  thing  should  fall, 

Captain  EUingham  had  in  the  mean  time  i  it  might  be  the  means  of  saving  her,"  she 
contrived  to  clamber  to  the  top  of  the  half-  I  said  to  Lady  Farnleigh.     "  I  fear  she  would 


ruinous  arches,  and  was  seeing  whether  it 
was  possible  for  active  limbs  and  a  sure  eye 
to  scale  the  face  of  the  cliff  by  that  help. 

"  It  is  out  of  the  question,"  cried  Mr.  Mat; 
"  I  tell  j-ou  it  is  impossible  !  Wait  while  1 
run  into  the  house  to  see  what  ladders  they 
have." 

"  And  ropes,"  returned  Captain  EUingham. 
"  Above  all,  a  good  coil  of  rope." 

"  Where's  Kate?  "  cried  Mr.  Mat,  as  he 
turned  to  run  into  the  house. 

"  I  did  not  see  her  leave  the  lawn  ;  I  sup- 
pose she  went  into  the  house,"  returned  Lady 
Farnleigh.  "  No  doubt  she  went  to  get  as- 
sistance. Since  that  gentleman  does  not 
choose  to  risk  his  precious  limbs  to  save  a 
poor  girl's  life,"  continued  she,  looking  with 
a  curling  lip  to  the  spot  where  Falconer  was 
hanging  over  the  reclining  form  of  Miss  Mar- 
garet, "  you  had  better  get  some  one  of  the 
servants  to  hasten  to  the  top  of  the  cliff  and 
try  to  get  down  to  her.  EUingham  will  be 
the  man  to  climb  it  from  below,  if  any  hu- 
man being  can.*' 

"  Do  you  continue  to  encourage  her  to 
hold  on  for  life,  but  to  make  no  attempt 
to  move.  Lady  Fai-nleigh  ;  I  will  run  and 
see  what  tackle  can  be  got.  You  can  make 
her  hear  you." 

And,  so  saying,  he  and  Mr.  Mat  hurried 
off  together  into  the  house. 

In  a  very  few  minutes  all  the  others  of  the 
party  had  run  out  from  the  house  and  were 
assembled  on  the  lawn.  As  soon  as  ever  Mr. 
Merriton  understood  the  nature  of  the  case, 
and  the  desirability  that  some  one  should,  if 
possible,  get  to  the  top  of  the  cliff,  and  at- 
tempt to  descend  thence   to  where  the  child 


t  fall  suflttciently  clear  of  the  rocks  to  es- 
cape fatal  injury  ;  but  it  is  a  chance  the  more 
in  her  favor." 

While  this  wasbeingdone,  Captain  EUing- 
ham and  Mr.  Mat  were  busily  engaged  in 
splicing  together  two  long  ladders,  which 
had  been  brought  out  on  to  the  lawn. 

"  Can  you  judge  the  height  with  your  eye, 
captain  ?  "  said  Mr.  Mat ;  "  do  you  think  we 
have  length  of  ladder  enough?" 

"  It  is  very  difficult  to  say.  I  don't  know. 
We  must  try  it.  If  I  can  only  get  to  the  low- 
est bushes,  I'll  answer  for  the  rest." 

"  How  can  you  possibly  take  the  child  off 
the  cliff,  when  it  wiM  be  as  much  as  ever  you 
can  do  to  hold  your  own  footing  on  it?  "  urged 
Mr.  Mat. 

"  Only  let  me  get  at  her;  and  I'll  answer 
for  the  rest.  I'll  manage  it,  either  upward 
or  back  by  the  ladders.  Now  for  it,  let's  try 
the  length  !  " 

They  raised  the  two  ladders,  tied  together, 
with  some  difficulty,  only  to  find  that  they 
were  some  ten  or  twelve  feet  too  short  for  the 
purpose.  The  lowest  of  the  bushes  grew  at 
least  that  distance  above  the  topmost  rung  of 
the  ladder  ;  and  the  child  was  now  about 
half  as  much,  or  perhaps  rather  more  than 
half  as  much,  as  high  again  above  the  com- 
mencement of  the  growth  of  plants. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  said  EUingham  ; 
"  there  is  but  one  thing  for  it.  We  must 
get  the  ladders  up  and  stand  them  on  the  top 
of  the  old  cloister  waU  !  " 

"I  doubt  it,"  said  Mr.  Mat;  "I  doubt 
our  raising  the  ladder  there ;  and  if  you  do 
succeed  in  getting  it  on  end,  it  will  be  no 
joke  attempting  to  go  up  it." 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  only  let  us  get  the  lad- 
ders up  !  I'll  go  up  them  safe  enough  !  I'm 
good  at  a  balance,"  returned  Ellingham. 

"  Well,  we  can  but  try,"  said  Mr.  Mat.  So, 
aided  by  the  servants,  the  two  gentlemen  es- 
sayed, and  by  dint  of  great  exertion,  suc- 
ceeded in  raising  the  ladders  against  the  clkT 
from  the  top  of  the  crumbling  old  wall.  Mr. 
Mat  placed  himself  on  the  arch  at  the  foot  of 
the  ladder,  in  order  to  hold  and  steady  it  to 
the  utmost  of  his  power  and  strength.  But 
the  task  of  ascending  the  two  ladders,  hasti- 
ly lashed  together,  raised  against  an  uneven 
surface  of  bare  rock,  and  standing  on  the  top 
of  a  rotten  and  crumbling  old  wall,  was  not 
an  agreeable  one  ;  and  all  the  other  individ- 
uals of  the  party  assembled  on  the  lawn 
looked  on  with  breathless  anxiety  while 
Ellingham  was  about  to  attempt  it. 

All  of  them  were  there,  with  the  exception 
of  Frederick  Falconer  and  Miss  Margaret. 
For  after  Fred  had  declared,  in  reply  to  the 
appeal  made  to  him  for  assistance,  that  he 
could  not  leave  Margaret,  and  had  pledged 
himself  to  that  young  lady  herself  not  to 
"desert  her,"  finding  it  unpleasant  under 
the  circumstances  to  remain  under  the  obser- 
vation of  the  people  congregated  on  the  lawn, 
specially  of  Lady  Farnlcigh  and  Mr.  Mat,  he 
had  half  carried  half  led  the  drooping  and 
still  hysterical  girl  into  the  drawing-room, 
and  was  there  administering  such  bodily  and 
mental  consolation  and  comfort  as  her  case 
required. 

Ellingham  was  on  the  wall  at  the  foot  of 
the  ladder,  adjusting  a  coil  of  rope  around 
his  shoulders  and  neck  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  interfere  as  little  as  possible  with  his  free- 
dom of  action,  and  was  on  the  point  of  start- 
ing on  his  perilous  enterprise,  when  the  at- 
tention of  those  on  the  lawn  was  drawn  to  a 
movement  among  the  bushes  and  brambles  at 
the  top  of  the  cliff,  just  above  the  spot  where 
the  child  was  still  clinging  for  dear  life  to 
the  shrubs  and  crumbling  soil,  only  a  few 
feet  above  the  commencement  of  the  wholly 
naked  part  of  the  cliff.  In  the  next  minute 
it  was  evident  to  all  of  them  that  it  was  Kate 
Lindisfarn,  who  was  about  to  attempt  descend- 
ing the  cliff  to  the  child  by  the  same  path  by 
which  the  latter  had  reached  her  present  po- 
sition of  danger ;  who  was  attempting  it 
rather  ;  for,  without  any  hesitation  or  pause, 
she  began  descending  among  the  bushes. 

Yes,  ic  was  Kate  sure  enough  !    Her  light- 


blue  silk  dress  was  distinguishable  enough 
and  was  unmistakable. 

"No,  no!  Back,  go  back!"  screamed 
Lady  Farnleigh  with  the  utmost  power  of 
her  voice,  and  striving  to  enforce  her  words 
by  waving  signals  with  her  hands.  But  Kate 
paid  no  attention  to  the  warning,  if  she  heard 
or  observed  it. 

"  O  God  !  she  will  be  killed  !  she  will  be 
killed  !  "  screamed  Lady  Farnleigh ,  in  an  ag- 
ony of  distress. 

"Let  her  try  it,  God  bless  her!"  cried 
Mr.  Mat  from  the  cloister  wall,  with  much 
emotion  ;  "  Kate  has  a  sure  foot  and  a  steady 
eye.     She  is  Sillshire,  Kate  is  !  " 

"  "Wait  till  I  can  join  you,  Miss  Lindisfarn  ! 
Wait  a  moment!"  shouted  Captain  Elling- 
ham, as  loud  as  he  could.  "  Tell  her,"  he 
added  to  those  below,  "  for  God's  sake,  to 
wait  a  minute  till  I  can  get  to  her !  "  and  he 
hastened  up  the  ladder. 

Kate,  however,  either  did  not  hear  or  did 
not  pay  any  attention  to  any  of  the  entreaties 
or  warnings  or  advice  screamed  out  to  her, 
but  continued  her  way  down  the  cliff  in  a 
dii-ect  line  to  the  spot  where  the  little  girl 
was  clinging. 

It  thus  became  a  sort  of  race  which  would 
reach  the  cWld  first ;  and  as  Ellingham  at  the 
top  of  the  ladder,  and  Kate  descending  the 
cliff,  neared  one  another,  they  came  within 
easy  speaking  distance  of  each  other  and  of 
the  object  of  their  exertions. 

The  last  step  from  the  ladder  to  the  face  of 
the  cliff  was  an  exceedingly  difficult  one  to 
make — was  indeed  more  of  the  nature  of  a 
jump  from  the  ladder  into  a  bush,  with  the 
necessity  of  instantly  on  reaching  it  taking 
means  with  both  hands  and  feet  for  retaining 
a  position  on  the  face  of  the  cliff.  None  but 
a  man  of  tried  nerve,  and  sure  of  himself  and 
of  the  perfection  of  the  service  he  might  ex- 
pect at  need  from  all  his  limbs,  would  have 
dreamed  of  attempting  it.  By  none  what- 
soever could  it  be  done  without  extreme  dan- 
ger. Kate  had  reached  the  spot  where  the 
child  was,  and  had  already  clutched  her  arm 
with  one  hand  while  she  held  on  to  a  bush 
above  her  with  the  other,  before  Ellingham 
had  made  this  desperate  jump  ;  and  she  called 
to  him  not  to  attempt  it. 

"  Don't  risk  it.  Captain  Ellingham,  there 
is  no  need  !  I  can  get  back  with  her  to  the 
top  very  well.  It  is  all  easy,  after  this  first 
bit  is  passed.    Go  down  the  ladder,  for  Heav- 


LINDISIARN    CHASE. 


en's  sake  !  and  send  somebody  round  to  meet 
me  at  the  top  of  the  cliff." 

"  No,  no  !  I  can  jump  it !  I  can't  let  you 
risk  clambering  to  the  top  witiiout  help.  It 
is  one  thing  to  make  your  own  way,  and  quite 
another  to  drag  another  person  with  you. 
Here  goes  !  ' ' — 

"  Oh,  don't  do  it !  "  shrieked  Kate,  hiding 
her  eyes  with  her  hand.  But  in  the  next 
instant  the  spring  had  been  made,  and  he  was 
standing  clinging  to  the  bushes  in  compara- 
tive gafety  by  her  side.  A  shout  from  those 
on  the  lawn  below,  and  a  special  hurrah  from 
Mr.  Mat,  showed  the  interest  with  which  EI- 
Iingham"s  progress  had  been  watched.  His 
success,  moreover,  besides  securing  his  own 
safety,  was  a  tolerably  sufiBcient  guarantee 
for  that  of  Kate,  and  the  child  whose  danger 
had  caused  so  much  trouble  and  distress ; 
for  it  was  pretty  clear  that  the  taan  who  had 
accomplished  the  feat  of  activity  that  they 
had  just  witnessed,  would  not  fail  in  the  far 
easier  task  of  assisting  his  two  charges  to  the 
summit  in  safety. 

And  then,  with  very  few  words  between 
them,  save  such  as  were  needed  for  directing 
them  to  place  a  foot  here,  and  grasp  a  twig 
there,  and  one  or  two  little  attempts  on 
Kate's  part  at  protesting  against  EUingham's 
determination  to  place  himself,  as  they  strug- 
gled upward,  between  them  and  the  preci- 
pice, so  that  he  might  have  a  chance  of  re- 
pairing the  mishap  of  a  slip  of  the  foot,  or  the 
failure  of  a  hand  grasp,  the  three  of  them 
reached  the  top  in  safety. 

Then,  indeed,  there  were  words  to  be  said. 
There  was  the  frightened  child  to  be  interro- 
gated in  the  first  place.  It  appeared  that 
the  case  was  exactly  as  Mr.  ]Mat  had  guessed 
it.  The  pet  Iamb  had  straggled  over  the 
brow,  gradually  finding  its  way  down  the 
steep  among  the  herbage  ;  and  the  child  had 
wandered  after  it,  almost  equally  unconscious 
of  the  danger  she  was  approaching,  till  the 
increasing  steepness  of  the  slope,  and  the 
crumbling  of  the  soil  under  her  feet,  and  the 
impossibility  of  retracing  her  steps,  revealed 
it  to  her. 

A  few  minutes  after  they  had  reached  the 
top,  Mr.  Merriton,  breathless,  and  the  gar- 
dener came  up.  The  former  threw  himself 
down  on  the  ground  as  soon  as  he  saw  them  ; 
it  was  very  evident  that  he  had  done  his  ut- 
most to  reach  the  spot  in  time. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Lindisfarn  !  What  a  relief  it  is 


87 

to  see  you  in  safety  !  Captain  Ellingham,  I 
congratulate  you  ;  but  I  cannot  help  envying 
you  your  good  fortune  !  "  he  panted  out. 

And  then  they  returned  at  their  leisure  to 
the  Friary,  taking  the  little  girl  with  them 
as  their  prize  and  proof  of  their  prowess. 

And  Kate  admitted,  in  going  down  the 
steep  path  on  the  Silverton  side  of  the  cliff 
to  the  water-meadows,  that  an  arm  would  be 
acceptable  to  her  ;  and  the  path  was  difficult 
enough  to  make  lier  sensible  that  she  had  a 
very  firm  one  supporting  her,  as  they  returned 
to  the  friends  who  were  so  anxiously  await- 
ing them. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  set  forth  in  detail  how, 
during  the  rest  of  the  afternoon,  the  adventure 
of  the  Cliff  pushed  the  projected  antiquarian 
investigations  aside,  somewhat  to  the  disgust 
of  the  two  seniors  of  the  party, — how  Kate 
and  Captain  Ellingham  were  (to  speak  in 
Twelfth-night  phraseology)  king  and  queen 
of  the  evening, — or  how  Margaret  and  Fred 
Falconer  discreetly  kept  themselves  as  much 
as  possible  in  the  background,  sufiBciently 
consoled  for  that  position  by  the  fact  of  occu- 
pying it  together. 

It  will  be  enough  to  state  that,  though  Mr. 
Frederick  was  exceedingly  well  pleased  to 
have  made  such  progi-ess,  and  so  coupled 
himself  with  the  Lindisfarn  co-heiress  as  to 
make  him  feel  tolerably  sure  in  his  enter- 
prise, and  though  he  was  genuinely  and  hon- 
estly much  attracted  by  the  beauty  which, 
during  the  little  comedy  of  the  afternoon, 
Margaret  had  submitted  to  his  attention  un- 
der a  variety  of  interesting  circumstances  and 
combinations, — nevertheless,  he  was  very  sen- 
sible of  the  cost  at  which  he  had  bought  this 
success  as  regarded  the  heiress  ;  and  he  was 
not  pleased  with  her  for  having  been  the 
cause  of  his  making  but  a  sorry  figure  before 
the  rest  of  the  assembled  party. 

Might  not  he  also,  just  as  easily  as  Merri- 
ton, have  run  to  the  top  of  the  clifi'and  played 
a  creditable  part,  without  troubling  himself 
with  the  danger  of  descending  it? 

As  for  Captain  Ellingham,  it  may  be  said 
that,  before  leaving  the  Friary,  he  had  be- 
come entirely  convinced  that  he  was,  or 
rather,  had  been,  the  goose  which  Lady  Farn- 
leigh  had  called  him,  and  was  very  earnestly 
purposed  to  be  so  no  more. 

Kate  for  her  part  was  somewhat  silent  and 
thoughtful  as  she  returned  in  the  carriage  to 
the  Chase  ;  and  part  of  hor  thoughts  were 
that  her  godmamma  had  been  well  within 
the  mark  when  she  had  characterized  the  Sil- 
verton arbiter  clerjantiarurti  in  a  word  of  four 
letters.  She  began  to  fear  indeed  that  it 
would  need  six  ;  and  one  of  them  a  double-u 
to  do  it  rightly. 


88 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


PART  VI. — CHAPTER   XV. 
THE   "carte  DE  TENDRE." 

That  gathering  at  the  Friary  for  archaao- 
logical  purposes,  which  were  so  little  served 
by  it,  was  a  memorable  one  to  several  of  the 
persons  who  had  been  present  at  it. 

It  was  very  memorable  to  little  Dinah 
Wilkins,  the  child  who  had  so  nearly  come 
to  grief  on  the  Nosey  Stone,  and  whose  in- 
discretion in  straying  thither  had  produced — 
as  indiscretions  will — so  much  trouble,  and 
so  many  consequences,  to  people  with  whom 
it  would  have  seemed  that  she  and  her  indis- 
cretions could  have  had  so  little  to  do.  She 
turned  out  to  be  a  granddaughter  of  old 
Granny  Wilkins,  at  Weston,  Lady  Farn- 
leigh's  old  pensioner,  very  well  known  to 
that  lady  and  to  Kate,  and  a  still  greater  ob- 
ject of  interest  therefore  to  the  latter,  as 
soon  as,  in  the  progress  of  that  heroic  de- 
scent of  the  face  of  the  cliff,  she  had  got 
near  enough  to  her  to  recognize  her.  It  was 
a  memorable  day  to  little  Dinah  Wilkins, 
not  only  from  the  fright,  the  danger,  the 
minutes  of  mortal  anguish — hours  they  had 
seemed  to  her — during  which  she  had  been 
expecting  to  slip  from  her  precarious  posi- 
tion, and  be  dashed  to  instant  death,  every 
moment ;  not  only  from  the  incidents  of  that 
wonderful  rescue  by  the  exertions  of  the 
gentlefolks,  the  history  of  which,  and  the 
interest  attending  it,  made  the  cottage  of 
old  Granny  W^ilkins  a  centre  of  attraction  to 
half  Weston  for  days  afterward ;  but  mem- 
orable also  from  the  permanent  influence  the 
circumstances  exercised  in  shaping  the  future 
course  and  destinies  of  the  child's  after-life, 
in  a  manner  which  may,  perhaps,  be  told  in 
a  future  chapter — or  which  possibly  may  not 
find  any  place  for  telling  in  the  course  of  this 
narrative,  seeing  that,  though  they  were  cu- 
riously mixed  up  with  the  subsequent  history 
of  several  of  our  dramatis  fersonce,  they  are 
not  essentially  necessary  to  the  understanding 
of  the  main  thread  of  the  narrative. 

The  archiBological  meeting  manque  was 
also  a  memorable  day  to  Arthur  Merriton. 
The  incidents  of  it  acquired  for  him  a  place 
in  the  Sillshire  social  world  and  in  Sillshire 
opinion,  which  the  peculiarities  of  his  char- 
acter and  position  might  otherwise  perhaps 
have  been  slow  to  win  for  him.  Captain 
J^Uingham  perceived  and  said  that  he  was"  a 
fellow  of  the  right  sort  !  "  Mr.  Mat  de- 
clared that  he  had  the  true  stuff  and  the 


making  of  a  Sillshire  man  in  him.  Lady 
Farnleigh  said  it  was  a  great  mistake  to  sup- 
pose that  real  manliness  of  character,  and  all 
the  best  qualities  generally  included  in  the 
term,  were  only  to  be  found  allied  with  one 
class  of  idiosyncrasies  and  one  set  of  habits 
and  pursuits,  or  were  incompatible  with  ner- 
vous shyness  and  dreaminess  of  manner  and 
mind.  And  she  unreservedly  admitted  to 
Kate  that  this  second  admirer  of  hers  was 
not  a  prig,  nor  anything  describable  by  any 
such  obnoxious  four  letters.  And  the  good 
opinion  of  Lady  Farnleigh  and  Mr.  Mat, 
operating  both  separately  in  different  spheres, 
and  also  with  mutually  corroborating  force 
in  the  same  sphere,  could  go  a  long  Avay 
toward  making  a  good  position  for  a  man  in 
Silverton  and  its  neighborhood.  But  what 
was  the  use  of  being  recognized  to  be  a  fel- 
low of  the  right  sort,  and  to  have  the  true 
stuff  in  him,  to  a  man  who,  for  his  own  part, 
recognized  only  this, — that  he  was  desper- 
ately in  love,  and  that  there  was  very  little 
or  no  hope  for  him.  And  that  was  the  frame 
of  mind  in  which  Arthur  Merriton  had 
walked  down  from  the  top  of  the  Weston 
Cliff  to  his  own  beautiful  house  at  the  foot 
of  it^  with  the  gardener  and  little  Dinah 
Wilkins  following  behind  him,  and  Kate 
Lindisfarn  and  Captain  Ellingham,  arm  in 
arm,  in  front. 

It  was  characteristic  of  the  man,  that  he 
perceived  at  once,  or  imagined  that  he  per- 
ceived, that  his  case  was  hopeless.  jMany  a 
man  would  not  have  admitted  for  himself,  or 
judged  for  another  that  it  was,  or  ought  to 
have  been  so.  All  that  large  and  potent 
class  of  considerations,  which  have  so  great 
and  often  so  paramount  a  share  in  managing 
Hymen's  affiiirs,  and  which  make  Dan  Cupid 
laugh  at  his  business-like  brother  Godship 
for  always  going  about  with  a  parchment 
deed  under  his  arm,  and  a  pen  stuck  behind 
his  ear — all  considerations  of  that  sort  were 
entirely  in  ^lerriton's  favor.  Of  course  his 
eyes  were  opened  as  to  Falconer's  business  at 
the  Chase,  and  his  chances  of  winning  the 
hand  of  Kate  Lindisfarn.  But  this  view  of 
misery  had  only  dissolved  itself  to  make  way 
for  the  appearance  of  a  succeeding  view,  as 
terrible,  and  more  substantial.  Ellingham 
was  evidently  the  rival  he  had  to  fear.  Old 
Mr.  Falconer  might  talk  and  nod  and  smile 
meaningly  to  the  end  of  time  if  he  pleased  ; 
but  after  that  arrival  at  the  top  of  the  cliff 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


togetlicr,  with  Dinah  Wilkins  in  their  joint 
charge,  and  that  walking  down  into  the  val- 
ley arm  in  arm,  as  they  returned  from  their 
joint  exploit,  Arthur  Merriton  judged  it  to 
l)e  a  liopeless  case.  He  knew  that  EUingham 
was  a  very  poor  man  ;  that  ^liss  Lindisfarn 
was  an  heiress  of  no  small  mark  and  posi- 
tion ;  that  his  own  status  in  the  matter  of 
fortune  was  such  as  in  the  opinion  of  a  pru- 
dent fatlier  might  justify  him  in  pretending 
to  her  hand.  lie  knew — I  suppose— that  lie 
was  a  very  good-looking  fellow.  !Many  girls 
— young  ones  chiefly  of  the  sentimental  sort, 
who  admire  "  sallow,  sublime  sort  of  Werth- 
vr-f\iccd  "  men — would  have  considered  him 
•i  much  handsomer  man  tlian  Captain  EUing- 
ham. He  was  well  educated,  cultivated, 
gentlemanlike,  and  could  read  Dante  with 
Kate,  which  Captain  EUingham  could  not 
And  Kate  liked  reading  Dante,  and  that  sort 
of  thing,  too.  But  Merriton  judged  all  this 
to  be  of  no  avail  ;  and  deemed  his  love  hope- 
less. "  Faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady  !  " 
says  the  proverb — half-true,  keeping  its  prom- 
ise to  the  ear  and  breaking  it  to  the  sense 
like  a  Sibylline  oracle,  as  is  the  wont  of  such 
utterances  of  the  wisdom  of  ages.  I  think 
I  have  seen  the  faint  heart  win,  when  the 
confident  one  was  nowhere !  But  it  all  de- 
pends on  what  it  is  that  is  to  be  won.  You 
may  catch  gudgeons  with  bait  that  wont  do 
for  trout.  Fred  Falconer  in  Merriton 's  place 
would  not  have  deemed  the  matter  hopeless, 
nor  have  given  up  the  game.  But  if  EUing- 
ham had  been  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea — hav- 
ing reached  that  destination,  it  is  to  be  un- 
derstood, before,  not  after,  that  memorable 
archa3ol()gical  party — I  think  the  fliinter  heart 
would  have  had  the  better  chance  of  win- 
ning the  fair  lady. 

Arthur  Merriton,  however,  being  Arthur 
Merriton  and  not  Frederick  Falconer,  did  feel, 
as  he  walked  down  behind  Kate  and  EUing- 
ham, that  it  was  a  hopeless  case  ;  and,  it 
may  be  feared,  did  not  feel  in  a  particularly 
affectionate  frame  of  mind  toward  little  Di- 
nah Wilkins  whom  he  had  toiled  so  hard  to 
preserve. 

To  Captain  EUingham  the  day  was  an  es- 
pecially memorable  day.  It  is  more  than 
forty  years  ago,  and  the  gallant  captain  was 
on  the  wrong  side  of  thirty  at  the  time  ;  but 
he  has  not  forgotten  that  day,  not  any  small- 
est detail  of  the  incidents  of  it,  yet !  To 
him  also  it  was  a  day  of  a  great  unsealing 


89 


of  the  eyes.  If  his  destiny  had  been  so  ma- 
lignant as  to  have  accorded  him  at  once  his 
heart's  desire,  and  thrown  the  lovely  Marga- 
ret, the  "  most  beautiful  creature  he  had  ever 
seen  in  his  life,"  into  his  arms  as  soon  as  his 
eye  had  fallen  in  love  with  her  !  If  there 
had  been  no  fairy  grtdmothcr  to  tell  him  that 
he  was  a  goose,  and  knew  nothing  a))out  the 
matter,  and  he  had  been  allowed  to  follow 
his  own  blind  fancies — to  think  of  the  wreck  ! 
But  what  about  tlie  matter  as  it  stood  now? 
As  to  the  two  girls^-"  Lombard  street  to  a 
China  orange!"  as  people  used  to  say  in 
those  days.  There  could  be  no  doubt  about 
it,  as  he  saw  the  matter  now,  that  Kate  was 
not  only,  as  Lady  Farnleigh  declared  she  was, 
the  finer  girl  of  the  two,  by  daylight,  but  the 
noblest-hearted,  the  bravest — (it  is  a  mistake, 
voyez  vuus,  Mcsdamcs,  to  suppose  that  any 
man,  except  one  whose  weakness  inclines  him 
to  mate  with  something  weaker  still,  admires 
a  woman  for  being  cowardly  ;  so  you  may  as 
well  dispense  with  all  those  little  tricks  and 
prettinesses,  the  scope  of  which  is  to  make  it 
evident  that  your  nerves  are  not  equal  to 
meeting  a  mouse  in  single  combat) — the  tru- 
est— he  would  have  said  the  joUiest,  but  that 
the  vigor  and  aptitude  of  that  expression  as 
applied  to  a  young  lady,  had  not  been  discov- 
ered by  that  backward  and  slow  generation — 
the  best,  the  dearest  girl  in  all  creation. 
That  was  a  fact  never  more  to  be  disputed 
or  doubted,  clear  as  the  sun  at  noonday. 

But  what  then  ?  How  did  that  very  evi- 
dent fact — evident  to  others  as  well  as  to 
him,  unfortunately — interest  him?  Was  it 
to  be  supposed  that  the  co-heiress  to  the  Lin- 
disfarn estates  woul^l  be  permitted  to  marry 
a  man,  who,  despite  the  noble  blood  in  his 
veins,  and  the  aristocratic  prefix  to  his  name, 
was  absolutely  dependent  for  his  bread  on  a 
profession,  which  had  hitherto  afforded  him 
so  little  of  that  necessary  article  ?  That  an- 
imal Falconer,  who  had  been  intimate  with 
them  all  his  life,  was,  as  far  as  fortune  went, 
in  a  position  to  calculate  on  the  approba- 
tion of  the  lady's  family.  There  might  be  a 
hope,  perhaps  indeed  a  lurking  conviction,  at 
the  bottom  of  his  heart,  that  Kate  was  not 
the  girl  to  give  her  heart  to  such  a  man  as 
Mr.  Frederick  Falconer.  But  then  there  was 
Merriton;  a  gentleman,  a  real  good  fellow, 
a  man  of  fortune,  a  much  better  looking  fel- 
low, as  Captain  EUingham  reflected  again 
and  again,  than  he  was,  far  more  calculated 


90  LINDISFARN    CHASE. 

by  his  education  and  pursuits  to  adapt  him-  hopelessness.  M'^as  she  so  wholly  fancy-free  ? 
self  to  one  side  of  Kate's  character  and  tastes  ;  The  amount  and  extent  of  fancy  captivity 
and  it  was  plain  to  see  that  he  was  desper-  which  could  be  predicated  of  her  in  the  case 
ately  smitten  with  her.  Captain  EUingham  of  Fred  Falconer  has  been  explained,  with, 
went  over  all  these  considerations  carefully  it  is  hoped,  sufficient  care  to  avoid  represent- 
and  dispassionately,  as  he  thought,  while  he  ing  it  to  have  been  more  than  it  really  was. 
sat  the  following  nightf  long  after  he  ought  But  how  about  it  now?  That  day  of  arch- 
to  have  turned  into  his  cot,  by  the  light  of  a  teological  investigation,  if  it  had  eventually 
smoky  lamp,  in  the  not  very  magnificent  failed  to  finally  settle  the  great  question  of 
cabin  of  His  IMajesty's  revenue  cutter,  the  the  date  of  the  Friary  washhouse,  had,  nev- 
Petrcl.  And  he,  too,  though  few  braver  or  ertheless,  done  much  toward  the  investiga- 
bolder  men  stepped  a  deck  in  the  English  tion  of  some  other  things.  It  had  been  a 
navy,  was  faint-hearted  in  this  matter  of  win-  great  day  for  the  unsealing  of  blinded  eyes, 
ning  an  heiress.  Several   persons   saw  several    things  clearly 

In  fact,  if  an  elderly  gentleman  qui  mores  which  they  had  never  seen  before.  And  I 
hominum  muUorum  vidit  et  urbes  —  which  think  we  may  say*  that  thenceforward  Kate 
means,  "  who  has  observed  the  loves  and  the  was  fancy-free  as  regarded  Freddy  Falconer, 
love-making  of  many  men  and  women  " —  l  He  had  both  done  and  left  undone  much  which 
might  have  the  pleasant  privilege  of  whisper-  '  had  contributed  to  this  result.  And  Kate 
ing  a  word  of  counsel  in  a  transparent  pink  1  was  safely  enough  off  with  the  old — no,  I 
little  ear,  he  would  say,  "Give  that  faint- i  must  not  say  that.  The  cautious  old  proverb 
heart-and-fair-lady  proverb  the  lie  ;  and  of  does  not  hit  tbe  case.  Besides,  it  would  in- 
two  aspirants,  incline  rather,  cateris  paribus   sinuate  what  I  have  no  right  to  insinuate  at 


(which,  being  translated,  means,  supposing 
both  of  them  to  possess  a  similar  number 
of  thousands  a  year,  and  an  equally  heroic 
outline  of  face),  to  give  the  preference  to 
the  faint-hearted  over  the  confident-hearted 
swain." 

Captain  EUingham  was,  as  has  been  said, 
faint-hearted  in  this  matter,  and  dared  not 
allow  himself  to  believe  that  Kate  Lindisfarn, 
so  beautiful,  so  much  admired,  so  gay,  so 
light-hearted,  so  fancy-free,  with  every  right 
to  look  forward  to  a  brilliant  position  in  life, 
could  be  brought  to  think  for  an  instant  of 
him,  a  rough  sailor,  hardly  a  young  man 
in  the  eyes  of  a  girl  in  her  teens,  with  a 
rough  brown  face,  tanned  and  bronzed  and 
hardened  by  exposure  to  wind  and  weather  ; 
at  odds  with  fortune,  too,  and  not  the  better 
fitted  for  shining  in  drawing-rooms,  or  win- 
ning the  ear  of  youth  and  beauty,  by  the  dis- 
cipline of  his  long  tussle  with  that  fickle  jade. 
Pooh,  pooh  !  what  had  he  to  do  with  falling 
in  love  with  heiresses  in  their  teens  ?  That 
was  his  proper  place  (namely,  the  sufficiently 
dull  and  dreary-looking  cabin  of  his  cutter) , 
and  his  profession  the  only  mistress  he  should 
think  of  wooing. 

And  Kate  ?  Was  the  day  of  the  archaeo- 
logical visit  to  the  Friary  a  memorable  one  to 
her  also?  Fancy-free,  Captain  EUingham 
had  called  her,  in  his  mental  survey  of  all 
the  conditions  of  the  case  that  made  up  his 


this  stage  of  Kate's  history. 

Still  all  this  beating  about  the  bush  does 
not  answer  the  question  whether  Kate  Lin- 
disfarn was  fancy-free  from  and  after  that 
day  at  the  Friary  ? 

Well !  It  is  so  difficult  to  be  categorical 
in  such  matters.  Merriton,  who  walked  be- 
hind her  and  EUingham,  as  they  returned 
from  the  top  of  the  cliif,  had  a  strong  opinion 
upon  the  subject.  I  am  sure  he  would  have 
boxed  his  own  ears  rather  than  have  suffi3red 
them  to  catch  a  word  of  conversation  that 
was  not  intended  for  them.  Yet  he  flid  form 
a  very  strong  opinion.  But  then,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  was  very  far  from  being  an 
impartial  observer.  It  is  certain  that  Kate 
was  remarkably  and,  for  her,  singularly 
silent  and  abstracted  as  they  returned  in  the 
carriage  to  the  Chase ;  for  Mr.  Mat  told 
Lady  Farnleigh  afterward  that,  finding  that 
Kate  would  not  talk,  and  not  feeling  any  in- 
clination to  talk  with  Margaret,  witii  whom 
he  had  been  not  a  little  disgusted  in  the 
course  of  the  day,  he  had  pretended  to  go  to 
sleep,  but  had  remained  quite  awake  to  the 
fact  that  hardly  a  word  passed  between  the 
sisters  on  their  way  home. 

And  then  again,  judging  from  the  sequel, 
if  it  did  not  date  from  that  day,  we  know  that 
it  was  there  soon  after. 

What  was  where? 

Pshaw !     You  know  what  I  mean.     There 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


is  no  doubt  that  she  was  fond  of  him  during 
that  ensuing  winter,  I  suppose. 

Ah  !  but  in  these  heart  histories  chronol- 
ogy is  ever3-tliing.  Let  us  be  chronological, 
■whatever  \vc  are.  Was  Kate  Lindisfarn 
fancy-free  when,  having  assisted  Eliingiiain 
in  getting  little  Dinah  Wilkins  to  the  top  of 
the  cliff,  and  being  assisted  by  him  in  getting 
herself  up,  and  having  exchanged  congratula- 
tions, etc.,  and  panted  in  unison  when  the 
top  was  reached,  and  having  walked  down  by 
the  steep  path  arm  in  arm  back  again  to  the 
Friary,  and  having,  with  all  due  mutual  self- 
denegations,  and  "No!  it  was  you,  who," 
and  '■  Don't  you  remember?  "  and  so  forth, 
shared  between  them  the  applause  and  hero- 
worship  of  the  rest  of  the  party  during  the 
remainder  of  the  evening,  they  separated 
with  not  unmeaning  touch  of  palm  to  palm 
at  parting — was  Kate  fancy-free  then,  I  say? 
That  is  the  question. 

Well,  we  know  what  girls  are.  It  has 
been  said,  "Tell  me  who  your  friends  are, 
and  I  will  tell  you  what  you  are."  And  it 
might  with  quite  as  much  truth  be  said.  Tell 
me  whom  a  girl  falls  in  love  with,  and  I  will 
tell  you  what  she  is  ;  or,  vice  versa,  Tell  me 
what  she  is,  and  I  will  tell  you  with  whom 
she  is  likely  to  fall  in  love.  A  pleasing  ex- 
terior, a  handsome  face,  and  well-formed  per- 
son, are  naturally,  and  in  accordance  with 
superior  arrangements,  the  wisdom  of  which 
we  cannot  and  may  not  question,  potent  con- 
ciliators and  attracters  of  woman's  love. 
But  there  is  no  more  significant  symptom  of 
the  high  level  of  moral  character  and  nobility 
of  heart  prevailing  among  Englishwomen 
than  the  all  but  universality  of  the  sentiment 
which  makes  an  absence  of  these  advantages, 
if  compensated  by  a  touch  of  heroism,  more 
acceptable  to  them  than  any  perfection  of 
personal  attraction  in  combination  with  a 
manifest  deficiency  of  all  heroism. 

The  quick  sudden  heart-beat ;  the  violent 
ebb  of  the  blood,  which  left  the  cheek  deadly 
pale,  to  be  succeeded  in  the  next  instant  by 
a  rush  of  the  rich  color  to  face  and  brow  and 
neck  ;  the  mixture  of  exulting  pleasure  with 
the  short,  sharp  agony  of  terror,  which  had 
caused  Kate  to  shade  her  eyes  with  her  hand, 
at  the  moment  that  Ellingham  had  made  his 
desperate  leap  from  the  ladder  to  the  bush  on 
the  cliff  face  beside  her, — all  this  told  of  a 
sympathy  between  their  two  natures  deeper 
and  far  more  powerful  than  any  such  mere 


91 

liking  and  inclination  as  might  have  been 
produced  by  the  ball-room  wooing  of  the  most 
faultless  of  Hyperions.  And  if  exactitude  of 
chronology  in  the  matter  of  the  birth  of 
young  love  in  this  case  be  insisted  on,  my  im- 
pression is  that  the  register  may,  with  the 
greatest  chance  of  absolute  accuracy,  date 
from  the  moment  when  Captain  Ellingliam 
alighted  in  the  bushes  from  that  perilous 
jump. 

Just  as  if  any  fellow  would  not  jump  into 
any  bush  for  such  a  prize  ! 

Yes,  my  ingenuous  young  British  friends  ! 
There  are  plenty  of  you  who  would,  and  some 
who  get  the  cl^ince,  and  do  such  things. 
And  a  discriminating  and  appreciating  public 
in  crinoline  and  pork-pie  hats  does  accord- 
ingly adore  those  of  you  who  do  them,  and 
generously  give  credit  for  good  intentions  to 
those  of  you  who  don't  get  the  cliance  of  do- 
ing them.  But  somehow  or  other  that — one 
would  say  upon  the  whole,  perhaps,  not 
specially  profound — pork-pie-hatted  public 
does,  mark  you,  contrive  most  astonishingly 
to  nose  the  hollow  pretences  of  those  few 
among  you  who,  having  the  chance,  would 
do  nothing  of  the  kind. 

And  then  the  party  at  Wanstrow  came  off. 
And  Margaret  had  to  be  asked  by  the  hostess 
in  a  clear  and  ringing  voice,  before  all  the 
assembled  party,  whether  she  had  entirely  re- 
covered from  her  indisposition  at  the  Friary. 
And  Freddy  had  to  be  complimented  as  audi- 
bly upon  the  admirable  skill  and  tact  he 
had  shown  in  managing  and  tending  symp- 
toms, which  the  habits  and  ways  of  the  Sil- 
verton  young  ladies — doubtless  by  reason  of 
the  fine  Sillshire  air  and  climate — had  prob- 
ably never  given  him  any  opportunity  of 
studying. 

Lady  Farnleigh  took  very  good  care  upon 
this  occasion  that  Ellingham  should  have  Kate 
for  his  neighbor  at  dinner  ;  and  his  inquiries 
about  little  Dinah  Wilkins,  and  Kate's  re- 
plies and  her  report  of  all  the  gratitude  and 
the  wonder  and  the  blessings  which  she  was 
charged  to  convey  to  him  from  old  Dame  Wil- 
kins, and  from  the  child's  mother,  made  them 
feel  like  old  friends,  who  had  a  variety  of  sub- 
jects in  common  between  them.  And  then  the 
sailing  party  had  to  be  talked  over.  And 
Captain  Ellingham  explained  that  it  was  not 
so  much  the  quantity  as  the  quality  of  the 
wind  that  might  make  the  excursion  disa- 
greeable to  ladies.     And  he  inquired  how  far 


92  LINDISFARN    CHASE 

Kate  -would  choose  to  brave  the  chance  of  a  I      "  That  is  a  high  compliment  to  a  sailor, 
ducking,  as  the  cutter  was  apt,  under  certain    Pray  make   that  opinion  known  to  my  Lords 


conditions,  to  be  wet. 

"  As  for  being  afraid  of  anything  a  capful 
of  wind  is  likely  to  bring  you,  that  I  know  I 
need  not  suspect  you  of,  Miss  Lindisfarn," 
said  he  ;  "  but  you  may  not  like  to  get  wet 
through  with  salt  water.  And  what  about 
the  others?  " 

"  Oh,  Margaret  will  be  ready  whenever  you 
give  the  word.  I  don't  think  she  would  mind 
a  capful  of  wind,  as  you  call  it.  Why  do  sail- 
ors always  talk  of  caps  full  of  wind  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  what  the  origin  of  the  term 
may  have  been  ;  a  corruption  from  some  very 
different  word,  perhajos.  But  it  is  curious 
bow  nearly  definite  a  quantity  it  signifies  in 
nautical  language." 

"And  what  amount  of  trouble  would  a  cap- 
ful of  wind  give  the  Petrel?  "  asked  Kate. 

"  Oh!  no  trouble  at  all,  except  to  cause 
the  helmsman  a  little  extra  vigilance  and  ac- 
tivity. The  Petrel  is  a  capital  sea  boat ;  but 
she  is  what  we  call  lively,  apt  to  jump  about 
a  good  deal,  and  wet  her  decks  when  there  is 
any  sea;  and  that,  you  know,  would  not  be 
pleasant  for  ladies." 

"  But  then  it  comes  pretty  nearly  to  wait- 
ing for  a  calm  ;  and  there  would  be  no  fun  in 
that.  I  should  so  much  better  like  to  make 
acquaintance  with  your  pet  Petrel  when  she 
is  in  one  of  her  lively  moods.  What  signi- 
fies a  little  wetting  ?  One  does  not  catch  cold 
with  salt  water,  they  say  ;  and  we  should 
come  home  and  get  dry." 

"  But  you  forget.  Miss  Lindisfarn,  that  I 
cannot  answer  for  the  movements  of  my  Petrel 
with  the  certainty  you  can  count  on  Birdie. 
We  may  go  out  with  a  wind  and  not  be  able  to 
return  quite  so  soon  as  we  expect.  I  strongly 
recommend,  especially  if  we  are  to  take  a 
windy  day,  that  everybody  should  take  a 
change  of  clothes  with  them." 

' '  Yes,  that  would  be  the  plan  !  And  if  we 
got  kept  out  all  night,  what  capital  fun  it 
would  be  !  Do,  pray,  Captain  Ellingham,  lot 
us  choose  a  day  when  there  is  a  capful  of 
wind.  I  should  so  like  to  see  the  Petrel 
lively." 

"  Well,  if  Lady  Farnleigh  will  consent,  I 
have  no  objection.  Only  remember  that  wind 
is  one  of  those  good  things  that  you  may  have 
too  much  of." 

"Oh,  what  a  very  cautious  and  prudent 
man  vou  are  ! ' ' 


of  the  Admiralty, 

And  Lady  Farnleigh 's  consent  was  ob- 
tained for  the  selection  of  a  day,  when,  if 
possible,  without  having  too  much  of  a  good 
thing,  the  Petrel  should  be  seen  in  one  of  her 
livelier  moods.  And  the  proposed  excur- 
sion came  off  accordingly.  And  the  Petrel 
retained  sufficient  discretion  amid  her  liveli- 
ness to  bring  them  all  back  to  port  before 
nightfall,  although  rather  in  a  bedraggled 
condition,  as  Captain  Ellingham  had  pre- 
dicted. And  Kate  had  rendered  him  more 
desperately  in  hjve  with  her  than  ever  by  the 
intoxication  of  high  spirits  with  which  she 
had  enjoyed  her  sail.  She  declared  that  it 
was  glorious,  and  she  was  almost  inclined  to 
think  even  better  than  being  on  Birdie,  when 
she  was  at  her  liveliest. 

And  thus — sometimes  in  one  way,  and  some- 
times in  another,  sometimes  at  Lindisfarn. 
sometimes  at  Wanstrow,  sometimes  at  the 
Friary,  and  once  or  twice  in  Silverton — all  the 
members  of  the  little  circle  with  whom  the 
reader  has  been  made  acquainted  saw  a  good 
deal  of  each  other  during  the  remainder  of  the 
autumn  months,  and  through  the  winter. 
But  as.the  only  net  result  of  all  this  was  to 
render  more  definite,  clear,  and  palpable  to 
themselves  and  to  the  friends  around  them 
those  relations  of. the  parties  to  each  other 
which  wei'c  foreshadowed  by  the  previous  in- 
tercourse between  them,  and  which  the  judi- 
cious reader  has  akeady  distinguished  spin- 
ning themselves  out  of  the  filaments  of  fate  in 
the  chiaro-oscuro  of  the  future,  it  will  not  be 
necessary  to  follow  with  historical  accuracy 
all  the  pleasant  processes  of  this  destiny-spin- 
ning. 

It  will  be  sufficient  for  our  purpose  to  pre- 
sent a  brief  and  succinct,  but  accurate,  report 
of  the  state  of  the  warp  and  woof  which  had 
been  produced,  by  the  time  when  the  birds 
begin  to  sing,  by  all  the  sailing  and  riding 
and  walking  and  talking  and  dancing  and 
laughing  and  pleasant  intercourse  of  all 
kinds  which  go  to  the  spinning  of  fate's  fila- 
ments in  this  department  of  human  affairs. 

Frederick  Falconer,  like  a  sensible  and 
businesslike  man,  who,  when  he  has  made  a 
resolution,  acts  up  to  it,  had  consistently  car- 
ried out  the  programme  he  had  drawn  up  for 
himself.  Forsaking  all  others,  he  had  steadily 
set  himself  to  the  work  of  winning  Margaret 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


93 


Lindisfarn.  And  that  work  had  to  all  ap- 
pearance progressed  satisfactorily,  not  only 
to  the  principals  themselves,  but  to  the  look- 
ers-on at  the  game.  We  have  obtained  a 
suflBcient  peep  into  the  sanctuary  of  Kate's 
heart  to  assure  us  tliat  her  whilom  admirer's 
far  more  declared  and  evident  homage  to  her 
sister  awakened  no  shadow  of  jealousy  or  pain 
there.  Lady  J^arnleigh's  declaration  that 
Freddy  Falconer  might  make  love  to  any  girl 
in  the  county,  for  aught  she  cared,  provided 
he  did  not  do  so  to  her  goddaughter,  seemed 
to  include  her  goddaughter's  sister  in  its 
license.  The  young  gentleman  stood  well,  as 
has  been  said,  in  tlie  Silverton  public  estima- 
tion ;  the  old  banker  was  well  known  to  be  a 
very  warm  man  ;  and  there  appeared  to  be 
no  reasons  of  any  sort  why  Miss  Lindisfarn's 
family  should  not  consider  that  his  only  son 
was  a  very  proper  match  in  all  respects  for 
one  of  the  co-heiresses.  Mr.  Frederick's  own 
sentiments  on  the  matter  we  are  already  in 
possession  of.  As  to  those  of  Margaret  a 
greater  degree  of  reticence  and  more  reserve 
are  proper  in  handling  the  delicate  topic  of  a 
young  lady's  feelings  upon  such  a  subject. 
Nevertheless,  perhaps  the  judicious  reader 
may  have  acquired  a  sufficient  insight  into  Miss 
Margaret's  idiosyncrasy  to  enable  him  to  es- 
timate pretty  accurately  the  state  of  her  feel- 
ings and  the  nature  of  her  views.  There  can 
be  no  harm  in  saying  that  she  really  did  like 
Frederick  very  much.  She  thought  him  very 
agreeable  and  very  handsome.  But  it  will  of 
course  be  understood — at  least  by  those  who 
are  conversant  with  the  system  on  which 
Margaret  had  been  educated,  and  with  the  re- 
sults of  it  on  the  development  of  docile  and 
well-disposed  pupils — that  it  would  have  ap- 
peared to  her  the  height  of  unworthiness,  and 
even  of  indelicacy,  to  permit  such  feelings 
and  considerations  to  stand  in  the  way  of  her 
transferring  her  affections  to  a  worthier  ob- 
ject,— say  a  wealthy  peer  of  the  realm,  or  a 
commoner  with  a  hundred  thousand  a  year, — 
should  such  a  one  present  himself  before  the 
final  adjudication  of  the  prize. 

As  to  Kate — what  can  be  said  ?  The  sub- 
ject is  a  less  pleasing  one,  both  for  the  vera- 
cious historian  to  set  forth,  and  for  the  well- 
regulated  mind  of  the  reader  to  contemplate. 
A  right-minded  heroine,  who  has  any  claim  to 
the  title,  and  behaves  herself  as  such,  never 
allows  herself,  as  we  all  know,  to  feel  the 
slightest  pi-eference  for  any  individual  of  the 


other  sex  until  she  has  received  a  declaration 
of  love  and  demand  for  her  hand  in  due 
form.  Then  and  thereupon,  she  may,  if  she 
think  fit,  forthwith  feel  and  acknowledge  the 
tender  passion  in  any  degree  of  intensity. 
The  "  popping  of  the  question  "  is  supposed 
to  act,  in  short,  like  the  opening  of  an  Arte- 
sian well,  through  which,  when  it  has  once 
reached  the  secret  I'eservoir  of  the  still  waters, 
hidden  from  every  eye,  deep,  deep  away  below 
the  surface,  they  rush  forth  with  impetuosity 
and  in  the  most  copious  abundance.  Till 
that  last  bit  of  the  lover's  work  has  been  ac- 
complished, no  sign  of  the  living  water  re- 
wards his  toil.  This  is  the  true  and  correct 
theory  of  love,  as  practised  and  understood  by 
the  most  authorized  hei'oines. 

But  poor  Kate's  education  had  not,  unhap- 
pily, been  such  as  efficiently  to  prepare  her 

j  for  the  vocation.  She  was  impetuous,  we 
know.  She  was  apt  to  permit  the  conscious- 
ness of  a  pure  and  guileless  heart  to  hurry 
her  into  a  practice  of  following  its  dictates, 
without   waiting   to   compare   them,  as  she 

i  should  have  done,  with  the  text  of  the  laws 
made  and  provided  for  the  regulation  of  a 
heroine's  sentiments. 

In  short, — for  the  truth  must  come  out, 
sooner  or  later, — by  the  time  the  spring  came, 
Kate  was  thoroughly  in  love  with  Captain 
Ellingham,  though  he  had  said  no  word  of 
love  to  her.  Not  but  that  she  had  kept  her 
own  secret  so  well  that  he  had  no  suspicion 
of  it ;  whereas  he  had  by  no  means  been 
equally  successful  in  keeping  his.  Women  are 
more  lynx-eyed  in  these  matters  than  men. 
Though  she  would  not  allow  it  even  to  her 
own  self  in  the  secrecy  of  her  maiden  medita- 
tions, at  the  bottom  of  her  heart  there  was  a 
consciousness  and  a  persevering  little  voice 
that  would  not  be  silenced,  which  told  her  she 
was  loved. 

And  she  was  happy  with  a  very  perfect 
happiness  in  the  consciousness  of  it,  although 
he  had  spoken  no  word,  and  although  she 
was  perfectly  aware  of  the  bearings  of  that 
businesslike  aspect  of  the  matter,  which  to 
him  seemed  a  well-nigh  insuperable  barrier 
between  them.  She  knew  perfectly  well  her 
own  position  and  the  value  of  it.  She  knew 
his  position  ;  and  felt  upon  the  subject  as  a  lov- 
ing woman  in  such  circumstances  does  feel. 
Nor  did  she  conceive  that  there  was  any  great 
difficulty  to  be  overcome  in  the  matter.  She 
had  no  doubt  that  it  would  all  come  ri^ht. 


LtNDISFARN    CHASE. 


Was  there  not  the  fairy  godmother,  who  saw 
it  all,  of  course,  though  she  said  nothing,  and 
understood  it  all  ? 

And  as  for  EUingham  himself?  His  part 
in  this  stage  of  the  drama  was  a  less  happy 
one.  He  had  suffered  himself  to  become  irre- 
mediably engrossed  by  a  passion  which  he 
greatly  feared  must  be  a  hopeless  one.  And 
the  sort  of  manner  and  tone  and  conduct 
which  his  fear  caused  him  to  impose  on  him- 
self tLward  Kate  would  have  either  puzzled, 
or  offended,  or  pained  a  girl  more  on  the  look- 
out for  flirtations,  more  on  the  qui  vive  to 
watch  for  the  manifestations  of  admiration 
and  the  results  of  it,  either  for  the  encour- 
agement or  discouragement  of  them — more 
self-conscious,  in  a  word,  than  Kate  was  in 
this  matter. 

And  yet,  notwithstanding  Ellingham's  fears 
and  discouragements,  it  was  impossible  for 
him  not  to  perceive  a  difference  in  Kate's  man- 
ner toward  him  and  toward  Arthur  Merriton. 
But  with  self-tormenting  perverseness,  he 
told  himself  that  this  was  only  caused  by  poor 
Merriton's  assiduous  and  unconcealed  admi- 
ration. It  was  plain  enough  there  was  no 
hope  for  him  ;  and  that  Kate  found  it  neces- 
sary to  show  him  as  much.  Probably,  if 
Merriton  were  as  cautious  and  self-restrained 
in  his  manner  toward  her  as  he  himself  was, 
her  tone  toward  him  would  be  as  frankly 
friendly  as  it  was  toward  himself. 

And  thus  is  completed,  I  think,  the  carte 
de  tcndre  as  laid  down  from  a  survey  of  the 
hearts  of  the  principal  members  of  our  dra- 
matis personcE  in  the  early  spring  of  the  year 
following  Margaret  Lindisfarn's  return  to  her 
paternal  home. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
WINIFRED  PENDLETON. 

On  one  evening  of  the  March  of  that  spring. 
Lady  Farnleigh  and  Captain  EUingham  had 
been  dining,  and  were  about  to  sleep,  at  the 
Chase.  Notwithstanding  that  matters  be- 
tween Kate  and  Walter  EUingham  must  be 
considered,  as  appears  from  the  general  sur- 
vey and  report  made  in  the  last  chapter,  to 
have  been  in  a  less  advanced  and  less  satis- 
factory position  than  those  of  Margaret  and 
Fred  Falconer,  nevertheless,  it  had  come  to 
pass  that  EUingham  was  on  terms  of  greater 
intimacy  with  the  other  members  of  the  fam- 
ily at  the  Chase,  and  was  a  more  frequent  vis- 
itor there,  than  Falconer.    This  had  no  doubt 


in  some  degree  arisen  from  the  circumstances 
which  caused  him  often  to  be  a  sleeping  as 
well  as  dining  visitor  at  the  house.  There 
was  no  reason  why  Fred  Falconer  should  sleep 
at  the  Chase.  There  was  his  home  in  Sil- 
verton  between  five  and  six  miles  off,  his  horse 
ready  for  him,  and  a  good  road  all  the  way. 
And  though  it  had  been  the  habit,  in  old 
times, — that  is  to  say,  in  the  times  before  Mar- 
garet came  home  from  Paris, — for  him  to  be 
a  frequent  guest  at  the  Chase,  it  had  never 
been  the  practice  for  him  to  sleep  there. 

The  case  of  EUingham  was  different.  He 
had  no  home  save  his  ship,  lying  off  in  Sill- 
mouth  Roads.  It  was  between  eight  and 
nine  miles  to  the  landing-place  in  Sillmouth 
harbor,  and  then  there  was  a  dark  and  most 
likely  very  rough  row  off  to  his  ship  at  the 
end  of  that.  Then,  again,  it  had  always  been 
the  practice,  during  many  years,  for  Lady 
Farnleigh  to  sleep  at  the  Chase  after  dining 
there  in  winter.  And  such  visits  were 
very  apt  to  be  prolonged  to  a  second  and  a 
third  day  or  more.  Lady  Farnleigh  was  the 
solitary  inhabitant  of  the  fine  large  house  up 
at  Wanstrow,  and  it  was  very  lonely  and  very 
dreary  and  very  storm-blown  up  there  in  win- 
ter. It  was  much  pleasanter  to  spend  a  long 
winter's  evening  in  the  cheery  pleasant  draw- 
ing-room at  the  Chase,  amid  the  sociable  fam- 
ily circle  there.  And  though  occasionally 
Kate  went  to  stay  for  a  few  days  with  her  god- 
mother, and  sometimes,  but  more  rarely,  the 
whole  family  party  at  the  Chase  were  induced 
to  pass  an  evening  at  Wanstrow,  by  far  the 
more  common  practice  was  for  Lady  Farn- 
leigh to  be  staying  in  the  house  at  Lindis- 
farn.  And  as  EUingham  mostly  came  thither 
with  her,  and  from  the  very  close  intimacy 
and  friendship  subsisting  between  them  was 
naturally  considered  as  belonging  in  some 
sort  to  her  suite,  it  had  followed  that  the 
same  invitations  and  arrangements  which 
made  her  so  frequently  an  inmate  of  the 
house,  had  extended  themselves  naturally  to 
him. 

Then,  again,  he  got  on  better  with  the  other 
members  of  the  family.  Fred  Falconer  could 
hardly  have  been  said  to  be  much  of  a  favor- 
ite there,  except  in  one  gentle  breast.  He 
was  always  a  welcome  guest,  it  is  true.  Of 
course  he  was,  because  he  always  had  been  so, 
from  the  time  when  he  used  to  ride  over  on 
his  little  pony,  with  a  servant  walking  by 
his  side  and  holding  the  rein.     His  father 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


Mvas  a  much  respected  neighbor  and  old 
friend.  Nobody  had  anything  to  say  against 
Freddy  himself.  Of  course  he  was  a  welcome 
guest.  !Miss  Immy  perfectly  well  remembered 
the  daj-s  wlicn  she  used  to  give  liim  cake  and 
cowslip  wine,  and  other  suchlike  dainties  in 
the  housekeeper's  room.  And  the  squire  had 
been  accustomed  to  "  only  Freddy  Falconer," 
for  the  last  twenty  years,  and  never  felt  that 
his  presence  entailed  the  least  necessity  for 
abstaining  from  his  after-dinner  nap.  Nev- 
ertheless, it  has  been  seen  that  Mr.  Mat  and 
he  did  not  get  on  well  together,  and  that 
Lady  Farnleigh  had  a  sort  of  prejudice  against 
him.  Curiously  enough,  too,  another  class, — 
on  whose  idiosyncrasies  and  likes  and  dislikes 
we  are  apt  to  speculate  with  much  the  same 
sort  of  curiosity  with  which  we  regard  the 
ways  and  instincts  of  creatures  of  a  diflPerent 
species,  so  cut  oiFfrom  all  community  of  sen- 
timent, and  all  intelligible  interchange  of  idea 
and  feeling  are  they, — the  servants,  did  not 
like  Freddy  Falconer. 

All  these  different  people  liked  Ellingham. 
He  and  Mr.  Mat  had  come  to  be  hand  and 
glove.  Miss  Immy  had  begun  to  think  him 
real  Sillshire.  And  thus  it  had  come  to  pass 
that  he  had  become  more  domesticated  in  the 
house,  and  more  intimate  with  them  all  than 
Falconer,  although  the  acquaintanceship  of 
the  latter  had  dated  from  so  much  earlier  a 
period. 

The  same  concatenation  of  circumstances, 
by  the  by,  served  in  a  great  degree  to  account 
for  the  imprudence  with  which  he  had  gone 
on  during  all  the  winter  falling  deeper  and 
deeper  and  more  inextricably  in  love  with 
Kate.  lie  had  not,  like  Falconer,  and  like 
the  young  shopman  who  takes  his  sweetheart 
out  for  a  walk  on  Sunday,  gone  on  a  love-mak- 
ing expedition  with  malice  prepense,  and 
self-conscious  determination.  He  had  been 
drifting  into  love,  insensibly  making  lee-way, 
all  the  winter. 

It  was  ^March  ;  and  both  Ellingham  and 
Lady  Farnleigh  had  been  staying  for  the  last 
few  days  at  the  Chase.  Falconer  had  dined 
there  on  the  day  before,  and  on  the  morrow 
Lady  Farnleigh  was  to  return  to  Wanstrow, 
and  Captain  Ellingham  txj  his  ship. 

It  was  an  exceedingly  rough  and  boisterous 
night ;  and  such  weather  was  seasonable,  for 
it  was  about  the  time  of  the  equinox.  The 
wind  sighs  a  differently  modulated  song  in 


95 


of  the  sweet  murmuring  of  the  fir-tree  ;  and 
Alexander  Smith  tells  how 

•'  Wind,  the  mighty  harper,  smote  his  thimder- 
hai'p  of  pines." 

But  thei'c  were  no  pines  on  Lindisfarn 
brow,  though  there  were  a  few  beliind,  and 
on  the  left  side  of  the  house.  The  long 
moaning,  however,  rising  from  time  to  time 
into  a  fierce  provoked  roar,  which  contin- 
ued to  encircle  the  house  like  a  live  thin  g 
piteously  seeking  an'  entrance, — this  remon- 
strating moaning  and  angry  roaring  came  from 
the  oaks  on  Lindisfarn  brow.  The  squire 
would  be  sure  to  be  out  the  very  first  thing 
on  the  -morrow  morning,  and  up  among  his 
beloved  woods  on  the  brow  to  see  what  mis- 
chief had  been  caused  by  the  storm.  He 
would  wince  sometimes,  as  he  sat  in  his 
chair  of  an  -ivening,  when  the  winds  were 
keeping  it  up  and  making  a  night  of  it  in  the 
Lindisfarn  woods,  from  a  fellow-feeling  for 
his  trees,  and  sympathy  with  the  torment 
they  were  undergoing  from  the  tempest. 

It  was  a  night  of  that  kind  ;  and  the  squire 
and  Captain  Ellingham  and  Mr.  Mat  were 
sitting  over  their  wine  before  a  huge  fire  of 
logs  in  the  low-roofed,  oak-panelled,  old-fash- 
ioned dining-room  at  the  Chase,  and  the 
squire  was  lamenting  the  mischief  that  was 
being  worked  among  his  trees  ;  and  the  cap- 
tain was  hoping  that  old  Joe  Saltash,  his 
second  in  command  on  board  the  Petrel,  had 
made  all  snug  and  was  all  right  in  Sillmouth 
harbor.  The  ladies  had  gone  to  the  drawing- 
room.  Miss  Immy,  scorning  to  lie  down  on 
the  sofa,  and  sitting  bolt  upright  on  it,  was 
nevertheless  fast  asleep,  with  her  volume  of 
"  Clarissa  Ilarlowe  "  by  her  side.  Margaret 
was  reading  at  one  side  of  the  table,  and 
Lady  Farnleigh  and  Kate  were  sitting  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  fireplace  to  Miss  Immy, 
and  were  talking  together  in  low  voices, 
when  the  servant  came  into  the  room,  and 
said, — 

"  Please,  Miss  Kate,  Mrs.  Pendleton  is 
here  ;  and  is  very  wishful  to  speak  to  you  if 
you  would  be  so  kind.  She's  in  the  house- 
keeper's room." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,  George,  that 
Mrs.  Pendleton  has  come  up  to  the  Chase, 
now,  in  this  weather?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  ;  she  has  just  come  in.  She 
says  she  was  bio  wed  away  almost ;  but  she 


woods   of  different  kinds.     Theocritus  talks   aint  none  so  wet.     It's  more  wind  than  rain 


96 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"  Tell  her  I'll  come  to  her  directly,  George. 
I  suppose  there  is  a  good  fire  in  the  house- 
keeper's room?  " 

"  Yes,  miss." 

"  What  can  have  brought  her  up  to  the 
Chase  at  this  hour,  and  on  such  a  night  as 
this?  "  said  Kate  to  Lady  Farnleigh,  as  the 
man  left  the  room. 

"  Some  trouble  or  other,  I  suppose.  I  am 
not  sure  that  I  quite  approve  of  your  seeing 
so  much  of  Mrs.  Pendleton,  and  making  such 
a  pet  of  her  as  you  do,  Kate." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  give  up  poor  dear  Winifred  ! 
It  is  out  of  the  question,"  answered  Kate. 

"  Well,  no.  I  don't  want  you  to  give  her 
up  ;  you  can  hardly  do  that  for  auld  lang  syne 
sake.  But  I  don't  half  like  that  husband  of 
hers.  Besides,"  added  Lady  Farnleigh,  with 
an  arch  look  at  Kate,  and  a  laugh  in  her  eye, 
"  however  tolerant  and  willing  to  wink  one 
may  have  been  when  one  had  no  concern  with 
the  collection  of  His  Majesty's  customs,  we 
are  enlisted  on  the  other  side  now,  Kate!  " 

Kate  laughed  and  colored,  as  she  replied, 
"  I  don't  know  that  I  have  changed  sides 
at  all.  At  all  events,  I  must  go  now  and  see 
what  Winifred  wants." 

Margaret  had  raised  her  eyes  from  her 
book  while  the  above  conversation  had  been 
passing,  just  sufficiently  to  have  shown  to  any- 
body who  had  been  watching  her,  that  she 
had  paid  attention  to  it  ;  but  she  made  no 
remark  on  anything  that  had  been  said. 

Winifred,  it  must  be  explained,  had  been 
Kate's  nurse  for  many  years.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  an  old  forester  in  the  squire's 
employment,  to  whose  care  his  dearly  loved 
woods  were  intrusted,  who  had  passed  a  long 
life  in  the  service  of  the  squire  and  his  fa- 
ther, and  was  a  specially  valued  and  favorite 
servant.  Winifred  Parker,  the  Lindisfarn 
forester's  daughter,  had  been  a  very  beauti- 
ful girl,  when  at  eighteen  she  was  engaged 
by  the  late  Mrs.  Lindisfarn  as  under  nurse  to 
her  twins.  Very  shortly  after  that,  three 
events  happened.  Mrs.  Lindisfarn  died,  as 
we  know.  One  of  the  twins,  Margaret,  was 
shortly  afterward,  as  we  also  know,  sent 
away  to  Paris.  And  very  speedily  after  that, 
old  John  Parker,  the  forester,  met  with  his 
death  from  the  fall  of  a  tree,  which  he  was 
engaged  in  felling.  He  was  not  killed  on 
the  spot,  but  had  been  removed  to  his  cot- 
tage, where  the  squire  and  Miss  Immy  and 
Mr.  Mat,  greatly  grieving,  had  all  of  them 


jointly  and  singly  promised  the  dying  man 
that  his  children  (he  was  a  widower,  and 
had,  beside  Winifred,  another  daughter  and 
a  son)  should  be  cared  for,  and  not  suffered  to 
come  to  want.  None  of  the  three  who  had 
thus  promised,  were  people  at  all  likely  to 
forget  a  promise  given  under  such  circum- 
stances, or  satisfy  themselves  with  any  grudg- 
ing or  merely  perfunctory  performance  of  it. 
The  other  children  were  well  cared  for,  and 
Winifred,  who  had  already  made  herself  a 
favorite  in  the  household,  was  retained,  a 
greater  favorite  than  ever,  as  special  attend- 
ant on  the  little  Kate. 

In  that  position  she  had  remained,  endear- 
ing herself  to  all  the  family,  and  especially 
to  her  little  charge,  improving  herself  con- 
siderably in  many  respects,  and  giving  per- 
fect satisfaction  to  everybody  who  knew  her, 
for  between  eleven  and  twelve  years  ;  that  is 
to  say,  till  she  herself  was  thirty  years  old, 
till  Kate  was  twelve,  and  till  a  period  about 
six  years  previous  to  the  date  of  the  events 
that  have  been  narrated  in  these  pages. 

To  the  entire  satisfaction  of  everybody  who 
knew'her,  I  have  written  ;  and  on  the  whole, 
such  may  fairly  be  said  to  have  been  the  case. 
Yet  during  most  of  those  years  there  had  been 
one  subject  on  which  Winifred  and  her  kind 
friends  and  protectors  had  diifercd  Even  in 
this  matter,  however,  she  had  been  so  rea- 
sonable, so  good,  so  docile,  that  the  diifer- 
ence,  far  from  having  caused  any  quarrel, 
had  turned  itself  rather  into«.  title  the  more 
to  their  affection  and  interest  in  her.  Wini- 
fred had  been  a  remarkably  beautiful  girl; 
and  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  this  one 
subject  of  trouble  arose  from  the  source  from 
which  most  of  the  troubles  that  assail  pretty 
girls  are  apt  to  spring. 

There  was  a  certain  Hiram  Pendleton,  re- 
specting whom  the  pretty  Winifred  held  the 
conscientious  and  wholly  invincible  opinion 
that  he  was  in  all  respects  the  finest  and  no- 
blest being  that  had  ever  stepped  this  sublu- 
nary globe.  The  family  at  the  Chase  tliuught 
that  he  was  not  so  in  all  respects.  Tluit  he 
was  one  of  the  finest  in  some,  was  very  evi- 
dent to  all  who  looked  at  him.  A  handsomer 
presentation  of  a  young  sailor — Pendleton 
was  a  Sillmouth  man,  and  that  was  his  cofa- 
dition  of  life — it  would  have  been  difficult  to 
conceive.  Nor  had  the  friends  and  protectors 
of  Winifred  anything  very  strong  to  urge 
against   him  in  other  respects.     Still   there 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


■was  enough,  they  thought,  to  cause  and  jus- 
tify their  unwillingness  to  give  into  his  keep- 
ing 60  great  a  prize  and  so  precious  a  charge 
as  their  pretty  and  much  petted  Winifred. 

In  the  first  place,  Ilirara  Pendleton  had 
eoraewliat  sunk  in  tlie  social  scale.  Wini- 
fred was  indignant  that  what  was  due  to  mis- 
fortune should  be  made  a  matter  of  reproach 
against  her  hero.  To  a  certain  degree,  per- 
haps, she  was  right.  Perhaps  not  altogether 
so.  Hiram's  father  had  been  a  boat-owner  ; 
but  somehow  or  other  the  son  had  fallen  from 
that  position,  and  had  been  constrained,  or 
had  chosen  (he  and  Winifred  said  the  latter), 
to  make  one  or  two  voyages  before  the  mast. 
lie  was,  at  all  events,  such  an  A.  B.  that  he 
could  at  any  time  command  his  pick  of  em- 
ployment in  such  a  capacity.  But  he  was 
said  to  be  "  wild  ;  "  and  I  am  afraid  the 
truth  is  that  pretty  girls — even  those  who  are 
as  good  as  Winifred  Parker  was — are  apt  to 
prefer  wild  men  to  tame  ones ;  just  as  I  do 
ducks,  and  for  the  same  reason, — that  there 
is  more  flaTor  about  them. 

And  then  again  there  were  rumors  as  to 
the  not  altogether  avowable  nature  of  the 
voyages  in  which  Pendleton  had  been  en- 
gaged. One  thing,  however,  was  certain  ; 
and  it  outweighed  a  whole  legion  of  facts, 
even  if  they  had  been  authentically  ascer- 
tained ones,  on  the  other  side  of  the  question, 
in  Winifred's  opinion.  And  this  undeniable 
truth  was  that  every  time  he  had  returned  to 
Sillmouth,  he  had  again  and  again  ui-ged  his 
suit  with  indefatigable  perseverance  and 
constancy.  Winifred  was  only  two-and- 
twenty  when  Hiram  Pendleton  first  fell  in 
love  with  her  ;  and  she  was  nearly  thirty  be- 
fore she  accepted  him.  And  all  that  time 
she  had  been  in  love  with  him  ;  and  all  that 
time  she  had  waited,  and  made  him  wait, 
in  obedience  to  the  wishes  and  advice  of  her 
friends  at  the  Chase  ;  and  all  that  time  Pen- 
dleton had  been  constant. 

He  did  more  to  win  his  love  besides  show- 
ing himself  a  pattern  of  constancy.  He  man- 
ifested signs  of  becoming  a  steady  and  re- 
formed character.  He  came  home  from  his 
last  voyage  with  a  good  bit  of  money,  and 
announcing  his  intention  to  go  no  more  a- 
roaming,  he  invested  his  savings  in  the  pur- 
chase of  a  neat  fishing  smack  and  tackle, 
and  settled  himself  as  a  scot  and  lot  paying 
inhabitant  of  Sillmouth. 

7 


Could  any  Jacob  serve  more  faithfully  for 
his  Rachel  ? 

In  fact,  Winifred  Parker's  friends  did  not 
feel  themselves  justified  in  any  longer  resist- 
ing the  match.  If  Hiram  Pendleton's  start 
in  life  had  been  somewhat  amiss,  he  had 
amended  it  and  reformed.  If  all  the  parts  of 
the  career  by  which  he  had  reached  his 
present  position  could  not  bear  close  scru- 
tiny, that  position  was  at  all  events  now  a 
respectable  and  responsible  one.  And,  as 
Winifred  Parker  often  said,  and  yet  more 
often  thought  to  herself,  such  constancy  as 
Hiram  had  shown  in  his  courtship  of  her 
was  rarely  to  be  matched.  So  the  marriage 
took  place  at  last,  with  the  still  somewhat 
reluctantly  given  consent  of  the  Lindisfarn 
family,  when  Winifi-ed  was  at  least  old  enough 
to  know  her  own  mind  ;  for  she  was  upon  the 
Tfcige  of  thirty.  She  had,  however,  lost  none 
of  her  remarkable  beauty  ;  for  it  was  real 
Dcauty,  and  not  mere  prettiness ;  no  beaute 
da  diable,  to  disappear  with  the  evanescent 
bloom  of  girlhood,  but  the  more  durable 
handsomeness  arising  from  fine  and  regular 
features,  perfect  health,  and  admirably  well- 
developed  figure.  Winifred  Parker  had  been 
one  of  those  pretty  girls,  who,  having  in 
them  the  promise  of  perfect  womanhood,  can 
hardly  be  said  to  have  reached  their  culmi- 
nating point  of  loveliness  till  that  has  been 
attained. 

She  was  between  five  and  sis  and  thirty, 
and  had  become  the  mother  of  two  fine  boys 
and  a  girl,  at  the  time  when  she  presented 
herself  on  the  stormy  night  in  question  at  the 
old  house  in  which  she  had  passed,  so  hap- 
pily, the  best  years  of  her  life.  But  it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  meet  with  a  handsomer 
woman  of  her  sort  than  Winifred  Pendleton 
was  and  looked,  after  her  walk  up  from 
Silverton  to  the  Chase  that  stormy  night. 

She  was,  as  the  servant  had  said,  not  very 
wet  ;  for  the  storm  was  as  yet  more  of  wind 
than  of  rain.  But  of  the  former  there  was 
enough  to  increase  very  considerably  the  fa- 
tigue of  a  stout  walker,  and  to  produce  a 
glow  and  redness  of  coloring  in  her  cheeks, 
which  somewhat  exaggerated  the  always 
healthy  and  fresh-colored  appearance  of  them. 
Her  bright  black  eye,  beaming  with  shrewd- 
ness, intelligence,  and  energy,  was  not  so 
large  as  beautiful  eyes  are  often  seen  in  indi- 
viduals of  the  Celtic  and  Latin  races,  and 


98 


not  unfrequently  in  favorable  specimens  of 
the  high-bred  classes  of  our  own  much-mixed 
blood.  The  dark  eyes  of  the  large  liquid 
type,  such  eyes  as  Margaret  Lindisfarn's,  are 
rarely  seen  among  those  classes  of  our  popu- 
lation which  represent  with  least  admixture 
the  Saxon  element  of  our  ancestry. 

A  great  abundance  of  glossy,  but  not  very 
fine  black  hair,  blown  into  considerable  dis- 
order by  her  walk  through  the  storm,  added 
to  her  appearance  that  grace  of  picturesque- 
ness,  which  belongs,  by  prescription,  to  gyp- 
sies, and  suchlike  members  of  the  anti-scot- 
and-lot-paying  classes,  but  which  is  hardly 
compatible  with  the  demureness  of  thorough 
respectability.  The  large  mouth  was  one  of 
great  beauty  and  sweetness.  Any  child  or 
dog  would  have  unhesitatingly  accorded  im- 
plicit trust  and  affection  to  the  owner  of  it. 
The  tall  figure,  with  its  well  and  fully-devel- 
oped bust,  round  and  lithe  but  not  too 
slender  waist,  and  its  general  expression  of 
springy,  elastic  sti'cngth  and  agility,  was  the 
very  perfection  of  womanhood, — a  sculptor's 
model  for  an  Eve. 

But  why  did  Lady  Farnleigh  suppose  at 
once  that  trouble  of  some  sort  was  the  cause 
of  Mrs.  Pendleton's  visit  to  the  Chase  ?  And 
why  did  she  disapprove  of  Kate's  closeness 
of  intimacy  with  so  old,  so  meritorious,  and 
60  well-loved  an  humble  friend  of  her  family  ? 
And  what  was  the  meaning  of  her  joking, 
but  not  the  less  seriously  meant,  allusion  to 
the  collection  of  His  ]\Iajesty's  revenue,  and 
to  the  share  which  Captain  EUingham  had 
in  the  due  accomplishment  of  that  collec- 
tion? 

The  truth  was,  in  one  word,  that  the  Hon- 
orable Captain  EUingham,  commanding  His 
Majesty's  revenue  cutter  Petrel,  and  Hiram 
Pendleton,  were  enlisted  on  opposite  sides  in 
the  great  and  permanent  quarrel  arising  out 
of  that  matter  of  collecting  His  Majesty's 
revenue.  Pendleton,  the  bold  and  able  sea- 
man,— not  unacquainted,  if  all  tales  were 
true,  with  lawbreaking  in  the  course  of  his 
professional  career,  the  capitalist  in  posses- 
sion of  a  fishing  smack  and  nets,  and  a  small 
sum  into  the  bargain,  safely  stowed  away 
(not  in  Messrs.  Falconer  and  Fishbourne's 
books) ,  had  been  led  into  embarking  his  cour- 
age, his  seamanship,  and  his  capital  in  the 
then  promising  and  tempting  profession  of  a 
smuggler.     And  it  is  not  to  be  understood 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


that  the  pretty  Winifred  either  put  her 
apron  to  her  eyes,  or  gave  any  other  indica- 
tion of  considering  herself  an  unfortunate 
and  miserable  woman,  or  went  with  whining 
who-would-have-thought-it  complaints  to  her 
friends  at  the  Chase,  or  with  a  long  face  to 
the  parson,  the  magistrate,  or  any  other  au- 
thority whatsoever,  or  went  to  the  dogs. 
Hiram  Pendleton  had  been  as  constant  a 
husband  as  he  had  been  a  lover.  He  was  as 
much  in  love  with  his  wife,  and  she  with 
him,  after  some  six  years  of  marriage,  as 
they  had  been  for  the  sis  years  before  it. 
And  under  these  circumstances,  if  Hiram  had 
thought  fit  to  levy  war  against  the  sacred 
person  of  Majesty  itself,  instead  of  only 
against  Majesty's  revenue,  Winifred  would 
have  stuck  to  him  and  backed  him. 

Nor  must  it  be  supposed  that,  in  those 
days  of  oppressive  and  excessive  custom  du- 
ties, the  trade  and  position  of  the  bold  smug- 
gler was  regarded  by  any  class  of  tlie  public 
quite  in  the  same  light  as  it  is  in  our  better- 
instructed,  more  legality-loving,  and  more 
politico-economical  times.  Although,  of 
course,  persons  in  the  position  of  Lady  Farn- 
leigh and  Squire  Lindisfarn  could  not  but 
disapprove  of  the  smuggler's  trade,  shake 
their  heads  at  his  doings,  and  seriously  la- 
ment that  their  former  misgivings  with  re- 
gard to  Pendleton  should  have  been  thus  jus- 
tified, there  was,  'even  in  their  sphere,  no 
very  strong  repugnance  to  the  man  or  his 
illegal  enterprises ;  and  Winifred's  old  friends, 
when  Mr.  Mat  would  from  time  to  time  come 
home  from  Silvei'ton  or  Sillmouth  with  some 
story  of  a  successfully  run  cargo,  were  apt, 
though  with  due  and  proper  protest  and  dis- 
avowal, to  feel  more  sympathy  with  the  bold 
and  fortunate  smuggler  than  with  His  Maj- 
esty's defrauded  revenue. 

Kate  had  been  always  specially  daring  and 
outspoken  in  her  illegal  sympathies,  protest- 
ing loudly  that  smuggling  was  as  fair  on  one 
side  as  the  press-gang  on  the  other  ;  that  one 
was  no  more  wrong  than  the  other ;  that 
those  who  pulled  the  longest  faces  were  ready 
enough  to  buy  a  French  silk  dress  or  keg  of 
French  brandy  ;  and  that,  for  her  part,  she 
was  not  going  to  give  up  dear  old  AVinifred 
for  all  the  custom-house  ofiicers  in  the  king- 
dom. And  so  a  very  considerable  amount  of 
friendship  and  intercourse  had  been  kept  up 
between  Kate  and  her  old  nurse,  notwith- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


99 


standing  that  the  latter  had  become  a  daring 
gmuggler's  wife  ;  and  though  the  young  la- 
d3^'s  visits— generally  accompanied  by  Mr. 
Mat,  whose  sympathies  and  moralities  upon 
tlie  subject  were  quite  as  faulty  as  Kate's — 
though  the  visits,  I  say,  to  Mrs.  Pendleton's 
pretty  and  picturesque  cottage  under  the  rocks 
at  the  far  end  of  Sillmouth  sands  were  gen- 
erally made,  and  understood  to  be  made,  when 
the  master  of  it  was  away,  it  had  nevertheless 
occurred  that  a  bow,  returned  by  no  un- 
friendly nod  on  the  part  of  the  fair  lady,  had 
more  than  once  passed  between  her  and  the 
owner  of  Decpcreek  Cottage. 

In  a  word,  the  family  at  the  Chase,  and 
Kate  more  especially,  had  determined  not 
to  give  up  their  old  and  much-valued  pro- 
te(je,  notwithstanding  the  regi-etable,  but  in 
those  times  and  those  latitudes  not  unpar- 
donable and  not  very  severely  reprobated, 
courses  into  which  her  husband  had  fallen. 
And  an  amount  of  toleration  and  even  sym- 
pathy for  Mrs.  Pendleton's  family  interests 
and  prosperities  and  adversities,  had  been  felt 
and  even  professed  by  Kate  (who  was  apt  to 
profess  all  she  felt  on  most  subjects) ,  greater 
than  perhaps  might  have  been  the  case  if  the 
young  lady  had  been  better  aware  of  all  that 
the  life  and  pursuits  of  a  smuggler  involve 
and  may  lead  to  ;  and  at  the  same  time  an 
amount  of  Minking  at  illegalities,  which  they 
were  bound  to  discountenance,  had  been  prac- 
tised by  the  elder  and  more  responsible  mem- 
bers of  the  family,  which  worshipful  and  law- 
al)iding  people  in  this  improved  age  of  the 
world's  history  will  perhaps  consider  as 
scarcely  justifiable  or  prudent. 

And  now  came  new  circumstances,  which 
had  a  tendency  to  complicate  these  relation- 
ships. It  was  quite  clear  that  between  Cap- 
tain EUingham  and  Hiram  Pendleton  there 
could  be  neither  truce  nor  toleration.  And, 
as  Lady  Farnleigh  said,  "they" — that  is, 
she  and  her  goddaughter,  and  the  rest  of  the 
family  at  the  Chase — were  now  enlisted  on 
the  other  side.  As  her  ladyship  had  also  re- 
marked, when  first  speaking  to  Kate  of  Wal- 
ter EUingham,  it  was  bad  to  be  a  smuggler 
on  the  Sillshire  coast,  when  the  Petrel  and 
her  commander  were  on  duty  on  that  station. 
And  it  was  likely  to  be  difficult  to  cultivate 
friendly  relations  with  both  parties. 

And  now  what,  under  these  circumstances, 
could  Mrs.  Pendleton  want  this  stormy  night 
up  at  the  Chase"? 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
A  HARD,   HARD  TASK  ! 

Kate  found  Mrs.  Pendleton  waiting  for  her 
in  the  housekeeper's  room,  a  little  snuggery 
looking  out  on  the  back  of  the  house,  toward 
the  woods  therefore,  which  came  down  to 
within  a  short  distance  of  the  mansion  on 
that  side,  and  toward  the  high  forest-covered 
ground  of  Lindisfarn  brow.  So  that  on  this 
side  of  the  house  the  moaning  and  roaring  of 
the  storm-wind  was  yet  more  loudly  heard 
than  in  the  front.  But  though  the  casements 
rattled  and  shook  as  if  every  now  and  then 
they  were  assailed  by  a  sudden  push  from  the 
outside,  the  little  room  was  cheerful  with  a 
bright  fire ;  and  Mrs.  Pendleton  had  been 
already  supplied  with  a  steaming  pot  of  tea, 
and  a  plate  of  bread  and  butter. 

"  Why,  Winifred?  "  cried  Kate,  bursting 
into  the  room  through  the  door,  much  as  the 
wind  was  striving  to  do  at  the  opposite  win- 
dow ;  "  what  in  the  world  brings  you  up  to 
the  Chase  on  such  a  night  as  this  ?  What  a 
walk  you  must  have  had  !  " 

"  'Tis  a  terrible  night.  Miss  Kate,  sur- 
enough  ;  not  for  them  as  is  safe  and  snug  on 
shore.  I  think  nothing  of  the  walk,  though 
the  wind  does  blow  off  the  brow  up  here 
enough  to  take  one  off  one's  legs.  But  it 
must  be  an  awful  night  at  sea  !  " 

"  AVhere  is  Pendleton?  "  asked  Kate. 

"  Over  the  other  side,  and  safe  in  harbor 
at  this  time,  I  hope.  Miss  Kate.  But  he'll 
be  coming  across  to-morrow  night ;  and  they 
wont  ask  no  better  than  a  spell  of  this  same 
weather;  for  the  night's  as  dark  as  pitch, 
and  they  are  not  afeard  of  wind,  you  know, 
miss." 

' '  It  would  be  on  the  quarter  in  coming 
over,  as  the  wind  is  now;  would  it  not?" 
asked  the  young  lady. 

"  Yes,  and  that's  one  of  the  lugger's  best 
points.  Only  there  is  a  little  too  much  of  it. 
But  if  the  wind  lasts,  or  if  there  is  any  wind 
at  all  that  will  any  ways  serve  to  make  the 
coast  with,  they  will  be  coming  over  to-mor- 
row night,  sure  enough." 

"  Don't  you  wish  the  job  was  done,  and 
the  lugger  lying  asleep  under  the  Benniton 
Head  rock,  and  Hiram  safe  and  dry  in  the 
cottage?  " 

"  Where's  the  use  of  wishing,  Miss  Kate? 
I  might  spend  my  life  at  it.  When  I  was 
first  married  to  a  sailor, — let  alone  one  as  the 
wind  isn't  his  worst  trouble  ! —  Ithoug-htl'd 


100 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


never  sleep  through  a  dark  night  again,  and 
felt  every  puflPof  wind  as  if  the  belaying  pins 
■was  fixed  in  roy  heart.  But  one  gets  used  to 
it.  But  I  do  wish,  Miss  Kate,"'  she  added, 
looking  with  earnest  eyes  into  Miss  Lindis- 
farn's  face,  "  that  the  job  was  over  this  time  ! 
T  do  wish  it !  " 

"  Is  it  anything  more  than  usual  ?  "  asked 
Kate,  with  a  glance  toward  the  door,  and  in  a 
lower  tone  than  before. 

"  Well,  Miss  Kate,  to  come  out  w-ith  it,  at 
once, — for  I  know  we  can  trust  you,  and  it's 
over  late  now  to  begin  having  secrets  between 
you  and  me, — that  is  what  brings  me  up  to 
Lindisfarn  this  night." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Winifred  ?  Is  there 
any  trouble?  "  asked  Kate,  iu a  sympathizing 
manner. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  Miss  Kate," 
said  the  smuggler's  wife,  who  had  thrown  oif 
her  cloak,  and  rising  to  her  feet  as  she  spoke, 
came  one  step  nearer  to  the  spot  at  which 
Kate  was  standing  at  the  opposite  side  of  the 
housekeeper's  little  tea-table,  for  she  had  not 
taken  a  seat  on  coming  into  the  room, — "  I'll 
tell  you  what  it  is.  Miss  Kate.  If  I  do  not 
succeed  in  preventing  it  by  my  walk  up  here 
to-night,  there  will  be  trouble,  as  sure  as  the 
trees  are  troubling  in  the  storm  on  Lindisfarn 
brow  this  night?  " 

"What  can  you  mean,  Winifred?  and 
what  can  your  walk  up  here  to-night  have  to 
do  with  it?  "  asked  Kate,  who  was  beginning 
to  feel  a  little  alarm  at  the  woman's  manner. 
"  It's  a  big  job  that's  to  come  off  to-morrow 
night.  There's  some  strange  hands  in  it. 
The  venture  is  as  much  as  some  on  them  is 
worth  in  the  world.  And,  Miss  Kate,"  added 
Winifred,  speaking  in  a  solemn  manner,  and 
with  special  emphasis,  while  she  looked  with 
a  fixed  and  determined,  but  yet  wistful,  glance 
into  Kate's  eyes,  "  they  don't  mean  to  be 
beat." 

"I  don't  understand  you,  Winifred,"  re- 
turned Kate,  while  a  feeling  of  vague  alarm 
rising  gradually  in  her  heart,  and  betraying 
itself  in  her  manner,  showed  that  she  did 
partially  understand  the  possible  trouble  to 
which  Mrs.  Pendleton  was  alluding. 

'•  Miss  Kate,"  said  she,  still  looking  down 
from  her  somewhat  superior  height  into 
Kate's  eyes  with  the  same  fixed  and  meaning 
look,  "  the  men  mean  to  bring  the  lugger  in, 
and  run  the  goods." 

"In  a  dark  night  like  this,"  said  Kate, 


"  they  will  have  a  good  chance  of  doing  so, 
as  they  have  had  many  a  time  before." 

"Ay,  Miss  Kate,  please  God  they  be  not 
meddled  with,  the  lugger  will  come  in  with 
the  tide,  while  it  is  as  dark  as  pitch,  and  all 
well.  But — it  'ill  be  bad  meddling  with 
them." 

"And  who  should  meddle  with  them?" 
said  Kate,  with  a  sudden  feeling  that  Lady 
Farnleigh's  lightly  uttered  words  might  have 
more  meaning  in  them  than  she  had  thought 
of  attributing  to  them. 

"The  revenue  officers,  to  be  sure,  miss, 
and  those  as  has  the  business  to  protect  the 
revenue,"  returned  Mrs.  Pendleton,  shrewdly 
observing  Kate's  face. 

"Well,  and  if  the  Saucy  Sfl//y "— that 
was  the  name  of  Pendleton's  lugger — "  gets 
scent  of  anything  hailing  from  the  custom- 
house, she  will  show  them  a  clean  pair  of 
heels,  as  she  has  so  often  done  before,"  said 
Kate. 

"  Ah,  but  the  Saucy  Sally  don't  mean  to 
do  nothing  of  the  kind  this  time.  1  tell  you. 
Miss  Kate,  they  mean  to  bring  in  their  cargo 
whether  or  no  !  " 

"  How,  whether  or  no  ?  If  the  revenue  offi- 
cers are  on  the  look-out,  they  must  stand  off 
and  try  another  chance." 

"But  I  tell  you,  Miss  Kate,  that  is  not 
what  they  mean.  They  mean  to  come  in.  If 
they  can  come  in  quiet,  well.  There'll  be  a 
bit  of  bread  for  the  wives  and  children,  and 
nobody  the  worse  or  the  wiser.  But  if  they 
are  meddled  with,  there'll  be  trouble.  That's 
where  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Pendleton. 

"  Why,  you  don't  mean  to  say,  Winifred, 
that  they  would  dream  of  open  resistance  to 
the  king's  ofBccrs  ?  They  could  nctt  be  so 
mad !  " 

"  I  don't  know  about  mad.  Miss  Kate  ;  but 
I  zem  I  know  which  would  be  the  maddest, 
them  as  is  wishful  to  earn  a  bit  of  bread  for 
their  families,  or  them  as  poke  their  noses 
where  they've  no  need,  to  hinder  them.  But 
you  may  rest  sure,  miss,  if  the  Saucy  Sally  is 
meddled  with  to-morrow  night,  there'll  be 
trouble." 

"  But  you  must  persuade  your  husband 
not  to  be  so  foolhardy,  Mrs.  Pendleton.  I 
can  hardly  believe  he  can  think  of  it,"  said 
Kate. 

"  Persuade  him  !  IIow  am  I  to  persuade 
him, — even  putting  he  was  a  man  to  mind  a 
woman's  tattle  in  such  matters, — and  he  over 


LINDISFARN    CHASli. 


in  France?  Besides,  it  docs  not  depend  on 
him  altogether  ;  I  said  there  were  others  in 
it.  And  zeuis  to  me,  Miss  Kate,  that  you 
know  enough  of  Hiram  to  judge  that  if  others 
are  for  venturing  a  bold  stroke,  he  is  not  tlic 
man  to  preach  to  them  to  hold  their  hands  !  " 

"  1  should  hope,  AVinifred,  that  he  'was  not 
a  man  to  join  in  any  violence,  which  might 
load  to  dreadful  consequences,"  said  Kate, 
witli  a  painfully  rising  sense  of  the  disagreea- 
ble possibilities  that  were  beginning  to  loom 
a!)ovc  the  horizon  of  her  imagination. 

"  Might  lead  !  "  cried  Winifred  Pendleton, 
with  a  look  and  an  accent  that  were  almost  a 
sneer.  "  You  don't  know  what  men  are.  Miss 
Kate  ;  let  alone  men  such  as  they  are,  who 
have  known  what  'tis  to  have  the  law  against 
'cm  and  not  for  'em.  Law  is  a  very  good 
thing,  Miss  Kate,  for  them  as  has  got  all  they 
can  wish  for  in  this  world.  But  Pendleton  is 
not  the  man  to  stand  by  quiet,  and  see  his 
o\Yn  seized  beneath  his  nose,  not  if  I  know 
anything  of  him.  No  more  aint  those  that 
are  with  him." 

"  But,  my  dear  Winifred,  what  is  your  ob- 
ject in  telling  me  all  this,  except  to  frighten 
me  and  make  me  unhappy  ?  It  could  not  be 
to  tell  me  this  that  you  have  walked  up  from 
Sillmouth  such  a  night  as  this,"  said  Kate, 
becoming  more  and  more  uneasy,  though  she 
hardly  knew,  with  any  degree  of  precision, 
now  what  she  heard  could  aifect  her. 

"  I  did  walk  up  fi-om  Sillmouth,  a  good 
eight  miles  to-night  just  on  purpose  to  tell 
you  this.  Miss  Kate,"  said  Mrs.  Pendleton, 
with  the  deliberate  kind  of  manner  of  a  per- 
son administering  a  dose  and  waiting  to  see 
the  effect  of  it. 

"  And  what  possible  object  could  you  have 
in  doing  so?  "  asked  Kate,  looking  at  her  in 
great  surprise. 

"  I  thought.  Miss  Kate,  that  maybe  our 
hearts  might  pull  the  same  way  in  this  mat- 
ter," replied  Mrs.  Pendleton,  dropping  the 
lashes  over  the  fine  but  perhaps  somewhat 
bold  eyes  with  which  she  had  been  till  now 
observing  her  quondam  mistress. 

"  Hearts  pull  the  same  way!  Of  course 
they  do  !  You  know  how  dearly  I  have  at 
heart  all  that  interests  you.  But  I  don't  un- 
derstand you.  You  are  not  like  yourself  to- 
night. Y'ou  speak  as  if  there  were  something 
bcliind  that  you  were  afraid  to  tell  me.  Has 
anything  happened?  " 

"No,  miss,  no!  nothing  have  happened. 


101 

But,  my  dear  Miss  Kate,  don't  you  know 
what  is  likely  to  ha'ppen  when  men  come  to 
fighting  !  If  you  don't  know,  can't  you  guess, 
what  a  woman  must  feel  when  the  flxther  of 
her  children  is  at  that  pass,  when  if  it  does 
come  to  a  fight,  it  wont  end  without  lives 
lost?" 

"But,  gracious  heavens!  Winifred,  why 
will  your  husband  be  so  rash — so  mad  ?  If 
you  have  no  power  to  stop  him,  what  is  to  be 
done?  and  what  on  earth  did  you  propose  to 
yourself  in  coming  here  ?  If  papa  could  help, 
I  am  sure  he  Avould.  If  Hiram  could  be  ar- 
rested and  kept  safe  till  this  mad  scheme  is 
blown  over  —  but  you  say  he  is  over  in 
Prance  ? ' ' 

"  Y^es,  miss,  Pendleton  is  over  the  other 
side  ;  and  I  don't  think  that  any  good  could  be 
done  by  arresting  him,  even  if  he  was  here  ; 
thank  you  kindly,  all  the  same,"  said  Win- 
ifred, easting  down  her  eyes  with  a  mock- 
demure  look  that  had  a  strong  flavor  of  irony 
in  it.  "  Hiram  is  a  bird  of  that  sort,  you 
see.  Miss  Kate,"  she  added,  "as  it  don't 
come  easy  putting  salt  on  their  tails.  No, 
Miss  Kate,  if  any  good  is  to  be  done,  it's  you 
that  must  do  it.  And  it  did  come  into  my 
head — or  into  my  heart  more  like — that  you 
and  I,  miss,  might  have  pulled  together  iu 
this  bad  business." 

"  I  help  you?  and  pull  together?  What 
can  you  mean,  Winifred?  You  have  got 
something  in  your  head.  Why  don't  you 
speak  it  out  plain?  You  know  you  can  trust 
me." 

"  If  I  did  not  know  that,  I  should  not  have 
said  what  I  have  said,"  replied  Mrs.  Pendle- 
ton, looking  full  into  Kate's  eyes  with  a 
steady  and  searching  gaze.  "  And  I  know 
well  enough  that  if  you  could  do  a  good  turn 
to  either  me  or  mine,  it  isn't  a  little  either  of 
trouble  or  cost  that  would  stand  in  the  way. 
I  know  that.  Miss  Kate.  Don't  you  think  I 
ever  forget  it,  or  ever  shall.  But  it  isn't 
trouble  or  cost  that  will  serve  the  turn  to- 
night." 

She  spoke  these  words  simply  and  natu- 
rally, and  then  hesitated,  and  once  again 
cast  her  eyes  down  to  the  floor.  After  a  min- 
ute she  went  on,  without  raising  them, — 

"  It's  not  to  be  thought,  Miss  Kate,  that 
when  men  come  to  a  desperate  fight — and  if 
there  is  a  fight  it  will  be  a  desperate  one — 
the  danger's  all  on  one  side." 

She  paused  and  looked  up  furtively  into 


102 


Kate's  face,  from  under  her  eyelashes.  But 
she  could  detect  neither  intelligence  of  her 
meaning,  nor  any  other  emotion  beyond  that 
of  the  sympathizing  distress  with  which  Kate 
had  heard  the  whole  of  her  story,  in  her  fea- 
tures, as  she  answered, — 

"  Of  course  that  must  be  so.  But  the 
king's  officers  are  almost  sure  to  be  strong 
enough  to  make  the  odds  terribly  in  their 
favor." 

"  Would  it  seem  so  terrible  to  you,  Miss 
Kate,  that  the  odds  should  be  on  that  side?  " 
asked  her  companion,  with  a  repetition  of  the 
same  furtive  examination  of  her  face. 

"  I  suppose  it  ought  not  to  seem  so,"  said 
Kate,  simply  ;  "  I  suppose  one  ought  to  wish 
that  the  supporters  of  the  law  should  be 
stronger  than  the  breakers  of  it.  x\nd  God 
forbid  that  there  should  be  blood  shed  on 
cither  side !  But  you  know,  Winny,  well 
enough,  that  as  long  as  it  was  merely  a  ques- 
tion of  playing  hide-and-seek  with  the  cus- 
tom-house people,  which  side  of  the  game  I 
wished  well  to." 

"  But  if  it's  not  a  game  of  hide-and-seek, 
but  a  very  different  sort  of  game,"  said  the 
woman,  speaking  with  hurried  vehemence, 
but  still  without  looking  up  ;  "  and  if,"  she 
went  on,  in  a  lower  tone,  "  that  other  game 
Las  to  be  played  out  with  His  Majesty's  rev- 
enue cutter,  the  PetreV — 

And  again  she  stole  a  look  at  Kate's  face, 
and  this  time  saw,  by  the  bright  red  flush 
that  suffused  the  whole  of  it,  that  a  portion, 
at  least,  of  the  ideas  that  she  wished  to  sug- 
gest had  found  its  way  into  Kate's  mind. 

"  Ah,  I  had  not  thought  of  that !  In  that 
case,"  she  added,  while  the  blush,  which  a 
different  sentiment  had  called  to  her  cheek  in 
the  first  instance,  was  detained  there  by  a 
feeling  of  displeasure  with  her  companion  of 
which  no  shadow  had  till  then  crossed  her 
mind, — "  in  that  case,"  she  said,  coldly,  "  I 
should  think  far  worse,  than  if  I  had  not 
known  it,  of  the  chances  of  the  men  rash 
enough  to  attempt  such  a  struggle." 

This  reply  called  up  Winifred's  eyes  from 
off  the  ground,  and  roused  a  new  feeling  of 
a  different  kind  in  her  heart ;  and  the  rich 
color  came  into  her  cheeks  also,  as  she  said, — 

"  You  take  it  with  a  very  high  hand,  miss  ! 
There  are  not  many  men,  either  in  Ilis  Maj- 
esty's service  or  out  of  it,  who  would  find  it 
a  joking  matter  or  child's  play  to  fight  out  a 
fair  fight  with  Hiram  Pendleton,  let  alone 


LINDISFARN    CHASE 

them  as  are  with  him  !     I  did  not  come  here 
to  ask  for  mercy,  but  to  prevent  mischief  on 


one  side  as  well  as  t'other.  There's  other 
women  besides  wives,  who  might  chance  to 
get  broken  hearts  out  of  to-morrow  night's 
work — if  such  work  is  to  be." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Mrs.  Pen- 
dleton !  "  said  Kate,  scarlet,  and  now  thor- 
oughly angry  ;  "  I  don't  know  what  it  is  that 
you  are  daring  to  insinuate  !  " 

"  Forgive  me,  my  dear  young  mistress ! 
My  dearest  Miss  Kate,  forgive  me  !  "  cried 
Winifred,  catching  Kate's  hand,  and  looking 
up  with  tears  in  her  eyes  ;  "  God  knows,  I 
had  no  thought  to  offend  you.  I  would  rather 
cut  my  tongue  out.  But  why  should  it  be 
an  offence  to  you,  between  you  and  me,  your 
own  poor  old  Winny  ?  Wouldn't  it  be  a  good 
thing  to  prevent  this  bloody  work,  if  we 
could?  And  believe  me,  believe  me,  my 
dear  young  lady,  it  will  be  as  bad  for  one 
side  as  for  t'other  !  " 

"  But  what  right  have  you  to  speak  as  you 
did,  Winifred?"  said  Kate,  relenting,  though 
still  much  annoyed  and  offended.  "Of  course 
it  would  be  good  to  prevent  bloodshed,  if 
there  were  any  way  of  doing  it.  But  what 
reason  or  what  right  have  you  to  suppose 
that  I  should  be  especially  interested  in  the 
matter,  beyond  what  every  person  would  nat- 
urally be?  And,  above  all,  what  possible 
reason  can  you  have  to  imagine  that  I  should 
have  any  means  of  influencing  the  matter  one 
way  or  the  other?  " 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know  why  you  should 
be  so  angry  with  me,  miss,  for  saying  to  you 
what  all  the  folks  are  saying  about  to  one 
another.  You  can't  think  that  it  is  any 
secret  in  Silverton  that  Captain  Ellingham 
worships  the  ground  you  tread  on.  You  can't 
expect  folk  to  shut  their  eyes;  and  I  don't 
8ee,  for  my  part,  why  you  should  wish  them 
to!" 

"  The  people  talk  nonsense,  as  they  gener- 
ally do  !  But  you  ought  to  know  better  than 
to  repeat  it  to  me,  Winifred.  Besides,  you 
spoke  of— of  my  breaking  my  heart  for  Cap- 
tain Ellingham — as  if  I  were  likely  to  break 
my  heart  for  any  man  !  " 

"  Well,  I  had  no  right  to  say  that,  miss, 
and  I  humbly  ask  your  pardon.  Not  but 
'twould  seem  natural  and  right  enough  to 
me  for  a  girl,  let  her  be  the  first  lady  in  the 
land,  to  care  about  such  a  one  as  Captain 
Ellingham,  and  he  mad  for  the  love  of  her  !  " 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"But  oven  supposing  that  one  must  nat- 
urally, as  j-ou  say,  Winny,  follow  from  the 
other,  what  business  has  any  one  to  impute 
any  such  sentiments  to  Captain  Ellingham  ?  " 
asked  Kate,  who  did  not  succeed  in  disguis- 
ing from  her  old  nurse  and  humble  friend 
that  she  did  feel  an  interest  in  investigating 
that  part  of  the  question. 

"  W  hat  business  ?  Well,  I  do  believe  that 
gentlefolk  think  that  poor  folk  haven't  no 
eyes  !  servants  specially  ;  and  they  made  of 
nothing  else,  as  one  may  say  !  Why,  Miss 
Kate,  do  you  think  that  the  sailors  took  no 
note  of  their  captain  that  time  when  the 
whole  lot  of  you  went  for  a  cruise  aboard  the 
cutter?  There  was  no  lack  of  other  ladies 
aboard,  and  pretty  ones  too ;  but  there  wasn't 
a  man  or  boy  of  the  cutter's  crew,  from  that 
crossgraincd  old  Joe  Saltash,  the  mate,  down 
to  the  cabin-boy,  that  could  not  see  where 
the  captain  took  his  sailing  orders  from,  or 
who  was  admiral  on  board.  Bless  you.  Miss 
Kate,  sailors  have  eyes  !  ay,  and  tongues  too  ! 
How  long  do  you  suppose  the  Petrel  might 
be  lying  in  Sillmouth  harbor,  before  it  was 
all  over  Sillmouth  that  the  revenue  captain 
worshipped  Miss  Kate  Lindisfarn's  shoe-tie? 
Show  his  sense  !  the  Sillshire  folk  say.  And 
I  suppose,  Miss  Kate — if  I  might  venture  to 
say  it,  without  your  eating'  me  up  alive  for 
it, — that  you  didn't  look  at  him  as  if  you 
hated  him!  " 

Kate  was  blushing  brightly  as  jNIrs.  Pen- 
dleton spoke  ;  but  she  did  not  appear  to  be 
angry  this  time. 

"  But  even  supposing,"  she  said,  "  that 
all  this  was  true,  instead  of  being  the  silliest 
nonsense  that  ever  was  talked,  what  would 
it  avail  toward  preventing  what  you  fear  to- 
morrow night,  Mrs.  Pendleton?  " 

"  Don't  call  me  Mrs.  Pendleton,  dear  Miss 
Kate,  please  don't,  or  I  shall  think  you  are 
still  angry  with  me.  How  avail  ?  Why,  if 
what  I  have  said  was  true,  it  wouldn't  be 
pleasant  hearing  for  you  to  be  told  the  first 
thing  you  open  your  eyes  in  the  morning  that 
Captain  Ellingham 's  body  had  been  found 
washed  ashore  during  the  night,  with  a 
couple  of  pistol  bullets  in  it,  and  a  gash  over 
the  forehead  !  " 

"  Good  heavens,  Winifred  !  IIow  can  you 
talk  in  such  a  way?  "  replied  Kate  ;  and  her 
cheek  grew  pale  as  she  spoke.  "Of  course, 
it  would  be  dreadful  to  hear  it,  whether  all 
that  trash  were  true,  or  as  false  as  it  is." 


103 

"  Well !  that's  what  you  are  like  enough 
to  hear,  Miss  Kate,  if  nothing  is  done  to  pre- 
vent it.  And  I  don't  suppose  you'd  think  it 
was  made  much  better,  if  you  was  told  that 
Hiram  Pendleton's  corpse  was  lying  stark 
on  the  sands  as  well !  " 

"  But  what  can  possibly  be  done  to  pre- 
vent such  horrors !  "  cried  Kate,  wringing 
her  hands  in  distress. 

"  Why,  where  is  the  captain  now,  at  this 
present  speaking?  "  said  Mrs.  Pendleton. 

"  Here  at  the  Chase,  in  the  house,"  an- 
swered Kate. 

"  Ah,  to  be  sure  !  here  at  the  Chase,  a-tak- 
ing  his  wine  comfortably  along  with  the 
squire,"  continued  Mrs.  Pendleton.  "And 
if  he  was  a-doing  the  same  thing  at  the  same 
hour  to-morrow  night,  the  Saucy  Sally  would 
have  run  her  cargo  before  midnight,  and 
no  harm  done  to  nobody  in  all  the  blessed 
world  !  " 

"  But  I  know  Captain  Ellingham  means  to 
be  off  to  Sillmouth  the  first  thing  to-morrow 
morning,"  returned  Kate,  shaking  her  head 
sadly. 

"  And  how  much  trouble,  I  wonder,  would 
it  take  them  eyes  of  yours.  Miss  Kate,  to 
make  him  change  his  mind,  and  stay  at  Lin- 
disfarn?  "  said  Mrs.  Pendleton,  looking  wist- 
fully into  the  eyes  she  spoke  of. 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Kate,  blushing  and  drawing 
a  long  breath,  as  if  she  suddenly  pei'ceived  for 
the  first  time  the  whole  of  Mrs.  Pendleton's 
drift  and  object  in  coming  up  to  the  Chase. 
"No,  Mrs.  Pendleton,  that  plan  wont  do! 
Even  if  I  were  to  make  the  attempt,  as  you 
would  have  me,  I  could  no  more  prevent 
Captain  Ellingham  from  doing  his  duty  than 
I  could  move  SUverton  Cathedral  !  " 

"All  nonsense!  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss 
Kate;  but  you  know  nothing  about  it. 
Many's  the  better  man  than  Captain  Elling- 
ham that  has  forgotten  all  about  duty,  as  you 
call  it,  on  a  less  temptation  !  And  where's 
the  special  duty  of  his  going  out  one  partic- 
ular night?  " 

"  I  am  afraid,  "  returned  Kate,  thought- 
fully, "  that  he  would  not  be  here  so  quietly 
to-night,  and  intending  to  go  out,  as  I  know 
he  does,  to-morrow  night  if  he  had  not  some 
information." 

God  help  him,  then,  and  my  husband, 
too!  They  wont  both  come  ashore  alive! 
More  likely  neither  of  them  ;  and  God  help  me 
and  my  children  !     Misa  Kate,  you  could  do 


104  LIND 

this  good  job  if  you  tried,'"  added  Winifred, 
clasping  her  hands,  and  looking  with  wistful 
earnestness  into  Kate's  now  painfully  dis- 
tressed face.  She  shook  her  head  sorrow- 
fully, but  with  a  severe  expression  on  her 
features,  as  she  said, — 

"  Nothing  that  I  could  do  would  produce 
the  result  you  wish,  Mrs.  Pendleton."' 

"Result  I  wish!  Why,  great  Heaven, 
Miss  Kate,  'tis  the  lives  of  both  of  them  ! 
Consider  how  you'll  think  upon  my  words, 
when  it  is  too  late  !  When  the  captain's 
body  is  picked  off  the  sand  and  carried  feet 
foremost,  and  the  white  face,  with  the  drip- 
ping black  hair  Hilling  back  from  it,  upward 
to  the  sunlight ;  and  my  man  is  laid  in  his 
bloody  coiBn,  and  I  am  a  broken-down  and 
broken-hearted  woman,  without  a  bit  of 
bread  to  put  into  my  children's  mouths," 
said  Mrs.  Pendleton ,  putting  her  handker- 
chief to  her  eyes  :  "  you'll  say  to  yourself. 
Miss  Kate,  I  did  all  that  good  work,  /sent 
the  captain  to  his  fate,  when  I  knew  it  was 
waiting  for  him.  /brought  Hiram  Pendle- 
ton to  his  death  !  'Twas  1  that  made  Wini- 
fred, old  John  Parker's  daughter,  a  broken 
widow,  and  her  children  orphans  !  I  did  it 
all,  for  I  might  have  saved  it  all,  and  wouldn't ! 
—Oh,  Miss  Kate,  think,  think  of  it !  What's 
a  bit  of  a  girl's  pride,or  justatasteof  a  blush, 
maybe,  making  you  look  more  lovelier  to  him 
than  you  ever  looked  before — what's  this,  1 
say,  to  men's  lives  ?  Think  of  it,  for  Heaven's 
love,  my  dear  Miss  Kate  !  And  don't  you  go 
for  to  think  that  the  king^s  men  are  going  to 
have  it  all  their  own  way.  I  tell  you  that 
the  chance  is  against  them.  Our  fellows  are 
a  sti-ong  lot — some  new  hands,  strangers, 
among  them — and  they  wont  make  child's 
play  of  it.  As  sure  as  Captain  EUingham 
trios  to  stop  the  Saucy  Sally  to-morrow  night, 
he's  a  dead  man  !  " 

Kate,  whose  distress  had  been  rising  to  a 


SFARN    C7IASE. 

pitch  of  agony  while  Mrs.  Pendleton  had  been 
speaking  these  words,  remained  silent  for 
a  while  at  the  conclusion  of  them,  while  her 
working  features  showed  bow  gi-eat  was  the 
effect  of  them  upon  her. 

"You  do  not  know,  my  poor  Winifred," 
she  said  at  length,  "  you  cannot  guess,  how 
painful  it  will  be  to  me,  how  much  it  costs 
me  to  make  the  applica'tion  you  urge  me  to 
do.  But,"  she  added,  while  something  that 
was  almost  a  sob  half  choked  her  utterance, 
"  I  will  not,  I  dare  not  have  it  on  my  con- 
science that  I  have  refused,  in  order  to  spare 
my  own  feelings,  to  make  an  attempt  at  avert- 
ing these  dreadful  misfortunes.  I  will  do  as 
you  would  have  me,  my  poor  W^inifred, 
though  it  is  a  hard,  hard  task.  I  must  leave 
you  now.  Good-night.  Rest  yourself  well 
before  you  start  on  your  return ;  and  if  you 
like,  one  of  the  men  shall  walk  over  with  you 
— or,  better  still,  I  am  sure  Mr.  Mat  would 
let  you  have  the  gig." 

"  God  bless  and  reward  you  for  your  good 
deed,  Miss  Kate,  and  grant  that  you  succeed!  " 
said  Winifred,  with  the  tears  in  her  eyes, — 
"  and  thank  you  kindly,  miss  ;  but  I  do  not 
want  any  help  to  get  home.  There's  not  a  foot 
of  the  ground  that  I  don't  know,  better  than 
e'er  a  man  about  the  place  :  and  I'm  noways 
afraid  of  the  walk." 

"  Good-night,  then.  It  shall  be  done  be- 
fore he  goes  to-morrow,"  said  poor  Kate,  in 
a  tone  which  might  have  led  a  bystander  to 
imagine  that  the  deed  to  be  done  was  some- 
thing of  a  very  tragic  nature  indeed. 

And  then  she  had  to  return  to  the  drawing- 
room  with  as  cheerful  a  face  as  she  could 
manage,  fully  purposed  to  do  the  spiriting 
which  she  had  undertaken,  but  intending  to 
set  about  it,  as  perhaps  the  reader  need 
hardly  be  told,  in  a  somewhat  different  fash- 
ion from  that  contemplated  by  her  ci-dcvant 
nurse. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


chapter  xviix. 
Kate's  attempt  at  bribery  and  corruption. 
It  was  impossible  for  Kate  to  fsnd  any  op- 
portunity of  making  the  contemplated  attack 
on  Captain  Ellinj^ham  tliat  evening.  When 
she  returned  to  the  drawing-room,  the  gentle- 
men had  come  in  from  the  dining-room  and 
were  listening  to  a  song  by  Miss  jMargarct. 
It  was  the  celebrated  air  from  l^ubcrt  le  Via- 
ble that  she  was  singing  ;  and  she  sang  it  well 
and  very  eflectively,  but  with  that  thin  and 
criarde  voice,  which  French  teaching  and  sen- 
timent and  practice  seem  always  to  produce 
and  with  abundance — ill-natured  or  severe 
critics  of  the  English  school  might  perhaps 
have  said,  with  too  great  abundance — of  that 
dramatic  effect,  of  which  the  song  is  so  espe- 
cially susceptible.  It  was  Margaret's  favorite 
song  and  her  main  cheval  de  bataillc,  not  only 
because  it  suited  her  voice,  but  also,  as  she 
would  observe,  wuth  a  very  business-like  ap- 
preciation of  the  subject  in  all  its  parts  and 
bearings,  because  it  suited  her  fa.ce  and  eyes. 
When  she  gave  the"  Grace!  grace,  pour 
moi,  pour  toi!  "  with  all  that  eyes  as  well 
voice  could  do  to  emphasize  the  poet's  words 
and  give  irresistible  force  to  the  prayer,  Kate 
could  not  help  wishing  that  her  sister  had  to 
make  that  appeal  for,  ' '  grace  pour  moi,  pour 
toi,"  which  it  would  be  her  task  to  make  to- 
morrow morning  to  the  man  who  was  then 
listening  to  it.  Captain  EUingham  did  listen 
to  Margaret's  song  with  pleasure  and  inter- 
est;  keenly  and  critically,  one  would  have 
said,  to  look  at  him  observing  her  the  while, 
with  a  curious  and  slightly  smiling  expres- 
sion of  countenance.  He  applauded  her  at 
the  conclusion  of  her  song ;  but  he  did  not 
approach  the  piano,  nor  make  any  offer  to 
turn  over  the  leaves  of  her  music-book. 
Fred  Falconer  was  not  there  to  hang  over 
her  chair,  and  turn  the  eye  part  of  the  stage 
business  into  a  duet  with  her.  But  Marga- 
ret was  too  well-drilled  and  well-educated  a 
girl  not  to  do  her  work  conscientiously  and 
to  the  best  of  her  power  under  all  circum- 
stances. The  same  spirit  prompted  her  that 
moved  the  old  mediajval  artists  to  carve  and 
finish  cornice  and  moulding,  even  in  parts 
which  from  their  position  could  never  meet 
the  eye,  as  carefully  as  in  those  portions  of 
the  work  which  were  destined  to  universal  | 
admiration. 

And  then,  after  Kate's  song,  Mr.  Mat  sung  i 
his  favorite  "Cease,  rude  Boreas,"  which 


105 

was  assuredly  appropriate  enough  to  the  oc- 
casion ;  only  Boreas  did  not  cease  by  any 
means,  but  quite  the  contrary. 

And  after  that,  Kate  sung  that  pathetic 
old  Sillshire  ditty  of  the  sad  mutiny  time, — 
"  Parker  was  my  lawful  husband  !  " — which, 
as  Mr.  Mat  said,  had  the  property  of  always 
compelling  him  to  "  make  a  fool  of  himself." 
It  was  natural  enough  that  the  matter  of 
which  Kate's  mind  and  heart  were  full, 
should  have  suggested  to  her  memory  that 
eloquent  though  homely  lament  of  a  wife 
sorrowing  for  a  condemned  and  guilty  hus- 
band. And  if  Kate  had  been  an  even  per- 
missibly artful  girl,  instead  of  the  utterly 
unscheming  and  thoughtlessly  open  creature 
she  was,  it  might  be  supposed  that  she  had 
selected  her  song  with  a  view  to  preparing 
Captain  Ellingham's  heart  for  the  assault  to 
be  made  upon  it.  If  she  had  had  any  such 
idea  in  her  licad,  she  might  have  fancied  that 
her  song  had  answered  its  end.  For  she  sang 
it  with  infinite  pathos  ;  and  the  eyes  of  the 
commander  of  the  Petrel  did  not  remain  any 
drier  than  Mr.  Mat's. 

And  then  came  the  time  for  the  flat  can- 
dlesticks and  the  good-nights.  It  was  quite 
clear  that  nothing  could  be  done  in  the  mat- 
ter that  night.  Kate  had  hardly  supposed 
that  there  was  any  possibility  of  getting  an 
opportunity  before  the  morrow.  Then  she 
knew  it  would  be  easy  enough.  Only  the 
deferring  her  hard,  hard  task  till  then  in- 
volved the  suffering  of  a  night  of  wakeful 
anxiety  and  thought. 

In  the  morning,  it  would  be  an  easy  mat- 
ter to  find  an  opportunity  for  a  iete-a-iele 
with  Captain  EUingham.  He  was  to  drive 
over  to  Silverton  in  the  gig,  starting  from  the 
Chase  at  eight  in  the  morning,  before  the 
family  breakfast  hour.  The  same  thing  had 
occurred  more  than  once  before  ;  and  EUing- 
ham had  declared  that  he  did  not  want  iM-eak- 
fast, — always  breakfasted  later, — liked  a  drive 
or  a  walk  before  breakfast,  etc.,  etc.  '  But  it 
was  in  too  violent  contradiction  with  the 
habits  and  traditions  of  all  Miss  Immy's  life 
and  experience  for  this  to  be  permitted  ;  and 
an  early  meal  was  on  the  table  at  half-past 
seven  for  the  departing  guest.  Upon  one  of 
these  occasions  Kate  had  come  down  to  make 
Captain  Ellingham's  breakfast  for  him  ;  and 
she  felt  that  there  would  be  nothing  remark- 
able in  her  doing  so  now.  Nevertheless,  she 
seemed  to  herself  a  guilty  thing,  compassing 


106 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


Bomc  forbidden'machinati'on  as  she  ■went  down   mounted  the  difficulty  of  beginning,  but  still 
to  the   breakfast-room  ;  and   she   felt   quke   very  nervous. 

sure  that  her  face  was  betraying  the  agita-  |      "I  feel  sure  that  I  shall  think  it  right  to 
tion  of  her  mind.  do  what  you  think  it  right  to  wish  me  to  do, ' 

Of  course,  the  reader  does  not  imagine,  as  Miss  Lindisfarn,"  said  he,  still  speaking  se- 
the  pretty  forestei^'s  daughter  imagined,  that  riously,  and  it  seemed  to  her  ear  at  the  mo- 
Kate  had  any  intention  of  playing  the  Circe  ment,  she  fancied,  somewhat  coldly.  It  was 
to  Captain  Ellingham,  and  seeking  to  detain  impossible  that  the  overture  could  have  been 
him  at  Lindisfarn  by  the  exercise  of  her  fas-  received  more  courteously.  Still  it  seemed 
cinations  upon  him.  Her  plan,  poor  child  !  to  her  as  if  his  grave  seriousness  opened  lier 
involved  a  much  greater  degree  of  naive  ig-  eyes  yet  more  than  they  had  been  before  to 
norance  of  the  world  and  of  things.  The  first  the  gravity  of  the  matter  she  had  to  commu- 
echeme,  as  Winifred  imagined  it,  would  have    nicate  to  him. 

been  sim^ily  impossible  of  performance.     Her       "  I  hope  so.     For  indeed,  indeed,  Captain 
own  was  infinitely  distasteful  to  her.  j  Ellingham,  nothing  would  have  induced  me 

Captain   Ellingham   observed  at   once,  as   to  speak  to  you  on  such  a  matter  except  a 
she  entered  the  breakfast-room ,  that  her  look   feeling  that  I  should  have  been  acting  Wrongly 
and  bearing  were  not  marked  by  her  usual    in  not  doing  so." 
bright  animation  and  cheerfulness.  j      And  as  she  spoke,  poor  Kate  felt  that  her 

"  I  am  afraid,  JNIiss  Lindisfarn,  you  are  not    agitation  was  increasing, — that  the  tears  were 
quite  well  this  morning.     If  that  is   so,  I    rising  in  her  throat,  and  that  she  could  with 
should  be  so  grieved  to  think  that  you  had    difliculty  prevent  them  from  brimming  over 
got  up  earlier  than  usual  on  my  account,"   at  her  eyes, 
said  he.  "What  is  the  nature  of  the  business?" 

"  I  have  had  a  restless  night,"  said  Kate,  said  he  in  a  softer  and  kinder  voice;  for  he 
in  her  direct  and  simple  way,  driving  straight-    perceived  her  distress. 

way  at  her  object  ;  "  but  it  would  have  made  i      "  Is  it  not  part  of  your  duty  here,  Captain 
the  matter  no  better  to  have  stayed  in  bed    Ellingham,  to  prevent  the  smugglers  from — 
this  morning  ;  for  I  have  been  kept  awake  by  \  from  doing  their  smuggling?  " 
thinking  of  something  that  I  wanted  to  say  {      "  That  is  not  only  a  part,  but  I  may  say 
to  you  before  you  went  away  to  Silverton."    pretty  well  the  whole,  of  my  duty  on  iheSill- 

"  I  should  think  myself  most  unfortunate,"  shire  coast.  It  is  for  that  purpose  that  the 
replied  Ellingham  in  much  surprise,  "  if  any  Petrel  is  here,"  replied  he,  smiling,  and  some- 
fault  of  mine  can  have  made  it  necessary  to  what  relieved  at  this  discovery  of  the  nature 
say  what  is  disagreeable  to  you."  !  of  th«5  subject  in  hand,  though  still  as  much 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed.  Captain  Ellingham.    And  |  surprised  as  ever, 
yet  it  is  very  disagreeable  to  me  to  say  what  1      "  And  the  government  tries,  I  know,  al- 
I  must  say.     And  nothing  but  a  belief  that   ways  to  take  away  from  them  the  things  they 

want  to  smuggle?  "  said  Kate. 

"  Tries  to  ?     I  am  afraid.  Miss  Lindisfarn, 
you  Zillshire  volk,  as  Mr.  Mat  says,  don't  al- 


it  is  my  bounden  duty  not  to  shrink  from  do- 
ing so  would  induce  me  to  speak  to  you  of 
it." 

"  Be  assured,  Miss   Lindisfarn,"  rejoined 
he,  speaking  gravely,  and  in  greater  aston- 
ishment than  ever,  "  that  anything  you  wish 
to  say  to  me  will 
loss  how  to  proceed 


ways  wish  us  revenue  officers  all  the  success 
we  deserve,  and  are  apt  to  laugh  at  us  when 
don't  succeed.  Yes,  the  government  tries 
He  was  rather  at  a  to  take  away  all  smuggled  goods,  as  you  say  ; 
but  after  a  moment's  and  tries  its  best,  though  it  does  not  always 
hesitation,  continued,— "  be  listened  to  by  succeed,"  said  the  commander  of  the  Petrel, 
me  in  whatever  manner  and  frame  of  mind  becoming  still  more  at  his  ease  respecting 
you  may  wish  me  to  hear  it."  j  Kate's  business. 

"  Thank  you,  Captain  Ellingham.  I  was  |  "Yes,  I  know.  They  try  to  hide  the 
sure  you  would  be  kind  about  it,  whether  you  things  and  you  try  to  find  them.  If  they 
may  think  it  right  to— to  act  in  one  way  or  succeed,  they  sell  them  at  a  good  profit ;  and 
another,"  said  Kate,  feeling  some  little  com-  if  you  succeed,  they  lose  them,  and  I  don't 
fort  from  the  consciousness  that  she  had  sur-   suppose  the  king  is  much  the  richer." 


LINDISFAKN    CHASE. 


"  Ah  !  Miss  Lindisfarn,  I  am  afraid  it's 
too  clear  on  which  sidcj-our  eyuipatbieeare  J'' 
cried  Ellingliam,  hiughing. 

"  But  it  cannot  be  the  intention  of  the  king 
of  the  govennneut,"  continued  Kate,  with- 
out manifesting  the  least  inclination  to  share 
her  companion's  cheerfulness  ;  "  it  cannot  be 
their  wish,  for  the  sake  of  a  few  yards  of  silk, 
or  a  little  tobacco,  to  take  away  or  even  to 
risk  human  life." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Miss  Lindisfarn,"  returned 
he,  reverting  at  once  to  all  his  previous  seri- 
ousness of  manner,  and  beginning  to  have 
6ome  inkling  of  a  suspicion  of  what  sort  the 
business  in  hand  might  be,  "  I  am  afraid  you 
hardly  sec  the  matter  in  its  right  light.  The 
government  assuredly  has  no  wish  to  take 
away  men's  lives,  as  you  say  ;  but  law  must 
be  enforced,  and  its  supremacy  vindicated  at 
all  hazards  and  at  all  cost, — at  all  costs,  you 
understand  me?  " 

"  I  understand,  of  course,"  said  Kate, 
whose  misgivings  as  to  the  success  of  her  en- 
terprise were  already  beginning  to  be  in- 
creased by  the  tone  and  scope  of  Captain 
EUingham's  words, — "  I  understand  that  if 
you  catch  the  men  in  the  act  of  smuggling, 
you  must  prevent  them  ;  you  cannot  let  them 
carry  their  pjlans  into  effect.  That  would  be 
too  much  to  expect," — a  smile  passed  over 
the  revenue  officer's  face,  as  she  said  these 
words  : — "  but  if  it  were  known  beforehand, 
that  a  lamentable  sacrifice  of  life  would  be 
the  certain  result  of  interfering  with  the 
smugglers  in  any  particular  case,  sureiy,  it 
would  be  right — and  humane — and  best  in 
all  ways  to — to — to  avoid  such  a  misfor- 
tune !  "  and  Kate,  as  she  came  near  the  end 
of  her  little  speech,  had  clasped  her  hands, 
partly  in  sheer  nervousness,  and  partly  from 
an  unreasoned  impulse  of  supplication,  while 
she  gazed  with  wistful  and  now  palpably  tear- 
ful eyes  into  his  face. 

Captain  EUingham  dropped  his  before  her 
gaze,  and  remained  silent  for  some  seconds. 
Then  looking  up  at  her  with  a  full  and  frank 
glance,  and  speaking  very  kindly  and  gently, 
but  still  gravely,  though  with  a  quiet  smile, 
he  said, — 

"  I  am  very  much  afraid,  my  dear  Miss 
Kate," — it  was  the  first  time  during  the  in- 
terview that  he  had  called  her  so,  and  Kate 
felt  grateful  for  the  friendliness  implied  in 
that  manner  of  address, — "I  am  very  much 
afraid  that  you  have  engaged  in  an  attempt 


107 

to  induce  an  ofiBcer  in  His  Majesty's  service 
to  act  in  gross  violation  of  his  duty, — a  iiigh 
crime  and  misdemeanor,  Miss  Kate  !  "  he 
added,  while  he  allowed  the  kindly  smile  to 
temper  the  severity  of  the  words.  "  I  am 
quite  sure,"  he  continued,  with  more  entire 
seriousness,  "  that  you  would  not,  as  you 
said,  have  spoken  to  moon  this  matter  if  you 
had  not  thought  it  right.  I  feel  sure,  too, 
that  I  may  safely  adhere  to  what  I  said  just 
now, — that  I  shall  think  it  right  to  do,  what 
you  think  it  right  to  wish  me  to  do, — after  a 
little  reflection.  Consider,  Miss  Lindisfarn, 
what  the  result  would  be,  if  smugglers  were 
allowed  to  effect  their  purpose  whenever  they 
chose  to  say  that  they  would  use  violence  in 
carrying  it  out  if  necessary.  Why,  your 
good  sense  will  show  you  in  an  instant  that 
not  a  yard  or  a  pound  of  goods  that  came  into 
the  kingdom  would  pay  duty.  The  custom- 
house might  shut  up  shop,  and  the  govern- 
ment might  whistle  for  the  revenue.  I  am 
sure  you  must  see  this.  If  these  men  resort 
to  violence,  and  if  life  be  lost  in  enforcing 
the  law,  their  blood  will  be  on  their  oun 
heads.  Unless  they  use  violence,  no  greater 
misfortune  can  ensue  than  the  capture  cf 
their  goods,  and  themselves." 

"  But  they  will  use  violence,  deadly  vio- 
lence !  They  are  desperate  men !"  cried  Kate, 
wringing  her  hands.  "  Can  nothing  be  done 
to  prevent  bloodshed?  " 

"  My  dear  Miss  Kate,"  said  EUingham, 
while  the  genial  smile  came  back  again  to 
his  features,  "  I  am  very  much  afraid  that 
you  know  more  about  these  desperate  men 
than  you  ought  to  know  !  As  for  what  can 
be  done  to  prevent  boodshed, — it  is  very  sim- 
ple. The  desperate  men  have  nothing  to  do 
but  to  take  to  an  honest  calling,  or  at  all 
events,  to  steer  clear  of  the  Petrel, — which  I 
tell  you  frankly  I  think  they  will  find  it  diffi- 
cult to  do?  " 

"But  I  must  not  betray  them,"  cried 
Kate,  while  a  new  terror  rushed  into  her 
mind  ;  "at  all  events,  it  cannot  be  right  for 
me  to  betray  them  !  " 

"  Certainly  not ;  you  have  betrayed  no- 
body, and  you  shall  betray  nobody.  To  show 
you  how  little  there  is  you  coM/<^betray,  let  me 
ask  you — without  wishing  for  any  answer 
though — "  whether  your  conversation  with 
me  this  morning  is  not  the  result  of  one  you 
had  last  night  with  a  certain  Mrs.  Pendleton 
in  the  housekeeper's  room?     Oh!  I  am  no 


108 


eavesdropper,"  he  continued,  as  the  blood 
rushed  into  Kate's  face  ;  "  but  Lady  Farn- 
leigh  mentioned  in  the  drawing-room  the 
purpose  for  which  you  had  left  the  room. 
She  told  me,  too,  all  the  good  reason  you 
have  for  being  warmly  interested  in,  and  at- 
tached to.  your  old  nurse.  But  it  is  Mrs. 
Pendleton's  misfortune  to  be  the  wife  of  per- 
haps the  most  dangerous  and  determined 
smuggler  on  all  the  coast.  We  have  long 
had  our  eyes  upon  his  movements.  Come  ! 
I  don't  mind  playing  with  my  cards  on  the 
table  ;  and  so  far  giving  the  fellow  a  chance 
of  avoiding  bloodshed  if  he  chooses  to  profit 
by  it.  We  have  information  that  tlie  Saucy 
Sally  is  to  run  over  from  the  other  side  to- 
night;  we  know  all  about  it.  And,  as  sure 
as  fate,  if  she  attempts  it,  she  will  fall  into  our 
hands  ;  and  if  the  men  are  rash  enough  to 
make  a  fight  of  it,  they  must  take  the  conse- 
quences." 

"It  is  very,  very  dreadful,"  said  Kate, 
wringing  her  hands  in  great  distress.  "  I 
know  they  mean  to  fight  desperately." 

"  And  would  Miss  Lindisfarn,  after  telling 
me  that  fact,  propose  to  me  to  keep  purposely 
out  of  the  way  of  this  very  desperate  gentle- 
man ?  "  said  Captain  Ellingham,  looking  with 
a  fixed  and  almost  reproachful  gaze  into  Kate's 
eyes,  while  a  slight  flush  came  over  his  brown 
cheek. 

"  I  was  told  a  great  deal,"  said  Kate,  and 
the  sympathetic  blood  rushed,  as  she  spoke, 
all  over  her  own  face  and  forehead,  "  about 
the  danger  that  the  king's  oflicer  might  injn 
as  well  as  the  smugglers.  But  of  course  I 
knew  that  was  a  part  of  the  subject  on  which 
it  was  no  use  to  speak  to  you, — however  pain- 
ful a  consideration  it  may  be  to  others,"  she 
added,  hurriedly  and  in  a  lower  voice,  drop- 
ping her  eyes  as  she  did  so. 

"  Thank  you.  Miss  Lindisfarn  !  "  said  El- 
lingham shortly,  giving  her  a  little  sharp  nod 
as  he  spoke.  "But  supposing  I  had  kept 
out  of  the  way  when  a  dangerous  duty  was 
to  be  done  ?  ' ' 

"  Nobody  in  the  world  would  have  sup- 
posed," replied  Kate,  speaking  rapidly,  with 
a  sort  of  angry  defiance  in  her  manner,  and 
looking  up  while  the  blush  returned  again  to 
her  cheeks,  "that  Captain  Ellingham  was 
moved  by  any  consideration  save  that  of  spar- 
ing others." 

Ellingham  bowed  slightly ;  and  his  own 
color  went  and  came  in  rapid  alternation. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 

I  could  not  count,  I  am  afraid,"  he 


"  on  all  the  world  taking  so  favoi-able  a  view 
of  such  conduct  as  you  might  be  kind  enough 
to  adopt.  At  all  events,"  he  continued, 
speaking  in  a  more  simple  and  businesslike 
tone,  "  putting  all  such  personal  considera- 
tions out  of  the  question,  this  is  simply  a 
matter  of  duty,  which  must  be  done  as  such. 
I  am  sure  that  you  must  now  see,  my  dear 
Miss  Kate,  that  any  alternative  is  wholly  out 
of  the  question.  Perhaps,"  he  added,  again 
changing  his  manner,  "  I  need  hardly  say, 
that  if  this  were  a  matter  in  which  any  earthly 
consideration  could  induce  me  to  act  differ- 
ently from  the  course  I  proposed  to  follow,  I 
should  deem  it  the  greatest  happiness  to  be 
guided  by  your  wishes.  But  duty  must  be 
done.  And  I  have,  at  all  events,  the  consola- 
tion of  being  sure  that  in  doing  mine,  I  shall 
have  Miss  Lindisfarn "s  well-considered  appro- 
bation." 

"  Alas  !  yes  !  I  cannot  say  that  it  is  not  so. 
And  I  fear  I  have  only  done  mischief  and  not 
good  by  my  interference,"  said  poor  Kate, 
with  a  dejected  sigh . 

"Nay,  not  so  at  all,"  replied  Ellingham. 
"All  this  fellow  Pendleton's  movements  were 
known  to  me,  as  I  told  you.  We  should 
have  been  on  the  lookout  for  him  to-night,  at 
all  events.  On  the  contrary,  I  have  stretched 
a  point  in  favor  of  your  proteges,  Miss  Lin- 
disfarn ;  "  (the  bright  arch  smile  again 
here  ;) — "I  give  them  the  advantage  of  know- 
ing that  they  are  expected.  You  may  com- 
municate the  intelligence  to  them,  and  let 
them  profit  by  it  to  keep  out  of  my  way,  if 
they  like  ;  I  assure  you  I  am  showing  them  a 
favor  rarely  practised  by  an  officer  of  the 
revenue  service  !  " 

"  But  the  men  are  on  the  other  side  of  the 
water,  in  France  !  "  said  Kate. 

"  I  know  that,  of  course.  But  these  peo- 
ple have  always  codes  of  signals,  and  means 
of  warning  their  friends.  Without  that,  they 
would  never  beat  us,  as  they  do  sometimes. 
Let  your  friend,  Mrs.  Pendleton,  be  told  that 
the  Petrel  is  wide  awake.  She  will  know 
very  well  how  to  make  use  of  the  informa- 
tion. And  now,  my  dear  Miss  Lindisfarn,  it 
is  time  for  me  to  be  off.  A  thousand  thanks 
for  your  kindness  and  hospitality  !  I  wish  I 
could  have  pleased  you  better  in  this  affair. 
Good-by." 

"  Good-by,  Captain  Ellingham  !  I  do  know 
that  you  arc  doing  right; — and  that  it  was 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


very  wrong  and — very  silly  in — in  anybody  to 
try  to  make  you  do  otherwise,  "  stammered 
Kate  as  she  gave  him  her  hand. 

x\nd  so  the  gig  rattled  off  with  Captain  El- 
lingham,  who,  somehow  or  other,  was  in  par- 
ticularly high  spirits  during  his  little  jour- 
ney to  Sillmouth,  and  felt  as  if  he  would  not 
have  the  fact  of  his  morning's  tetc-h-tete  break- 
fast cancelled,  or  the  remembrance  of  it  oblit- 
erated from  his  mind  for  all  the  Saucy  Sallies 
that  ever  skulked  into  a  port. 

And  somehow  or  other,  more  strangely 
still,  Kate,  though  her  enterprise  had  so  sig- 
nally failed,  and  though  she  was  very  pain- 
fully apprehensive  of  what  the  coming  night 
miglit  bring  forth,  caught  herself,  to  her  own 
considerable  surprise,  looking  back  with  a 
feeling  of  pleasure  on  certain  passages  of  that 
abortive  attempt  at  bribery  and  corruption, 
to  which  she  had  looked  forward  with  such 
unfeigned  terror. 

chapter  xix. 
rate's  eide  to  sillmouth. 

TuE  pleasure,  vivid  as  it  was,  with  which 
Kate  recalled  certain  words  and  tones  and 
looks  of  that  break fiist-tal)le  te.tc-a-te.lc  con- 
versation, had  to  be  put  away  in  a  cupboard 
of  her  mind  uiaikcd  ••  Private!  the  public 
ai-e  not  admitted  here  " — for  future  use. 
The  more  pressing  business  of  the  moment 
was  to  put  to  whatever  use  it  might  haply 
serve  the  information  winch  Captain  Elling- 
ham  had  given  her  leave  to  convey  to  the 
Bmugglers.  It  would  have  been  necessary, 
indeed,  in  any  case,  to  give  Winifred  tidings 
of  the  result  of  her  conversation  with  the 
commander  of  the  Petrel.  So  as  soon  as  the 
family  breakfast  was  over,  Kate  followed  Mr. 
Jilat  out  to  the  stable-yard,  where  his  miscel- 
laneous duties  of  the  day  generally  began,  and 
asked  him  if  he  could  manage  to  ride  over  to 
Sillmouth  with  her. 

"  I  must  see  Winny  Pendleton  this  morn- 
ing, Mr.  Mat,"  said  Kate.  "I  am  afraid 
there  is  likely  to  be  bad  work  to-night  be- 
tween Pendleton's  boat  and  the  revenue 
cutter." 

"  Was  that  what  Winny  was  up  here 
about  last  night?  "  asked  Mr.  Mat. 

"  Just  that,  poor  soul !  It  seems  that  her 
husband  has  got  other  men  associated  with 
him  worse  than  himself,  and  that  they  are  de- 
termined to  fight  with  the  revenue  men,  if 
they  are  meddled  with,     ^yinny  wanted  me 


109 

to  persuade  Captain  EUingham  to  keep  out  of 
the  way  of  the  Saucy  Sally.  'Of  course,  it  was 
impossible  for  him  to  think  of  doing  any- 
thing of  the  kind  ;  and  I  have  sad  misgivings 
something  bad  will  happen  to-night." 

"  Is  Pendleton  going  to  run  over  to-night?  " 
asked  Mr.  Mat. 

"  Yes.  That  was  what  Winny  told  me. 
And  I  know  the  Petrel  will  be  on  the  lookout 
for  him.  Oh,  Mr.  Mat,  it's  a  bad  business  ! 
I  wish  to  Heaven,  poor  Winny  had  never 
married  that  man  !  " 

"  Ah  !  It's  too  late  wishing  alwut  that 
now.  She  has  made  her  bed,  and  must  lie 
on  it.  And  there  arc  worse  fellows  of  his  sort 
than  Pendleton  is,"  said  Mr.  Mat. 

"  Can  you  ride  over  with  me  this  morn- 
ing to  Sillmouth,  Mr.  Mat?  I  must  see  her, 
though  I  have  nothing  to  tell  her  to  comfort 
her,  poor  soul!  " 

"  Of  course.  Miss  Kate,  I'll  go  with  you. 
I'll  have  the  mare  and  Birdie  saddled  di- 
rectly." 

So  Kate  and  Mr.  I\Iat  made  their  way  to 
Sillmouth  and  then  galloped  over  the  two 
miles  of  fine  sands  which  lie  between  that 
port  and  the  ijocks,  but  rise  from  the  water's 
edge  immediately  beyond  Deep  Creek,  from 
the  bank  of  which  little  gully  a  pretty  zigzag 
path  leads  to  a  sheltered  nook  of  flat  ground, 
about  half-way  up  the  cliff,  on  which  the 
smuggler's  cottage  was  built.  It  was  niched 
in  so  close  to  the  face  of  rock  rising  above  it, 
and  so  far  back,  therefore,  from  the  edge  of 
the  precipice  below  it,  that  it  was  barely 
visible  from  below  ;  and  it  would  hardly  have 
entered  into  the  imagination  of  a  stranger  to 
the  spot,  when  on  the  shore  below,  that  there 
was  a  human  habitation  half-way  between 
him  and  the  top  of  the  cliff  above  him,  had 
not  the  little  zigzag  path  unobtrusively  sug- 
gested that  it  must  lead  to  something. 

The  path  was  hardly  practicable  for  horses  ; 
and  though  Kate  had  frequently  protested 
that  she  was  sure  Birdie  would  carry  her  up 
safely,  Mr.  Mat  had  always  utterly  set  his 
face  against  any  such  attempt.  The  usual 
practice,  therefore,  was — if  neither  of  AV^inny 
Pendleton's  children  could  be  seen,  as  was 
often  the  case,  playing  on  the  sea-shore — for 
Kate  to  hold  Mr.  Mat's  horse  while  he  went 
up  to  the  cottage  and  sent  down  one  of  the 
boys  to  relieve  her  of  it  and  of  Birdie. 

On  the  present  occasion,  this  was  not  ne- 
cessary ;   for  Winny  had  been  anxiously  on 


110 

the  lookout  for  a  visit  from  the  Chase  ;  and 
on  the  first  appearance  of  Kate  and  jMr.  Mat 
on  the  sands  below  had  sent  down  one  of  her 
sons  to  hold  their  horses  for  them. 

They  found  her  in  a  great  state  of  anxiety 
and  agitation  ;  and,  as  we  know,  they  had 
no  comfort  to  offer  her. 

"  God  help  them.  Miss  Kate!  "  said  the 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 

God  it  will  yet  be,  all  is  well,  come  up  your- 
self to  the  Chase.  If  anything,"  she  added, 
putting  an  emphasis  on  the  any,  "  should 
happen,  don't  fail  to  send  up  a  messenger  the 
first  thing.  He  shall  be  well  paid  for  his 
trouble." 

So  Kate  and  her  companion  mounted  their 
horses  at  the  bottom  of  the  path,  and  turned 
poor  wife,  sitting  down  in  the  darkest  corner  1  their  heads  homeward.     That  two-mile  reach 
of  her  little  parlor,  and  putting  up  her  apron    of  sands  between  Sillmouth  and  Deep  Creek 


to  her  eyes, — "  God  help  them!  and  I  say  it 
for  one  side  as  well  as  for  the  other.  It  will 
be  a  bad  and  a  black  night  for  some  of  us." 
"  But  why  not  take  advantage,  Winny,  of 
the  information  I  am  permitted  to  give 
you?"  urged  Kate.  "Captain  EUingham  waiting  for  whip  or  spur.  But  it  is  prob- 
says  that  you  have  the  means  of  letting  the  |  able  that  if  they  had  not  done  so,  they  would 


such  a  well-established  and  sure  bit  of 
galloping  ground  for  the  two  riders,  that 
Birdie  and  Mr.  Mat's  mare  laid  their  ears 
back  and  started  off  as  usual  as  soon  as  ever 
their   riders  were   on   their   backs,  without 


men  know  their  danger  by  signals,  or  in 
some  way,  and  that  you  can  warn  them  off 
the  coast.     Why  not  do  so?  " 

"  It's  not  information  I  wanted  from  the 
king's  ofiicer,  any  more  than  he  wanted  it 


with  a  sneer.  "  If  he  knows  what  we're 
doing,  we  know  what  he's  doing.  The  men 
are  quite  aware  that  the  cutter  will  be  on  the 
watch  for  them.  That's  why  ihey're  deter- 
mined to  fight! " 

"  But  if  they  could  be  warned,  and  not 
attempt  to  get  in  to-night,  they  might  find  a 
time  when  the  cutter  is  off  its  guard,"  urged 
Kate. 

"  'Tisn't  so  easy  to  catch  Captain  EUing- 
ham off  his  guard.  That's  why  we  are 
driven  to  fight  for  it.  Our  men  are  peace- 
able enough.  They  don't  want  to  make  any 
mischief.  If  they  can  anyways  get  in  to-night 
•without  striking  a  blow,  they  will.  And 
they'll  have  all  the  information  of  the  cut- 
ter's movements  that  can  be  given  them. 
But,  oh,  Miss  Kate,  he  is  a  difiicult  one  to 
deal  with,  and  I'm  sore,  sore  afraid  that  bad 
will  come  of  it !  " 

"I  did  all  I  could  for  you,  Winny,"  said 
Kate,  sadly.  "  I  will  still  hope  that  in  the 
dark  night  they  may  slip  in  without  being 
seen .  We  must  go  now.  Of  course,  I  would 
tell  you  the  upshot  of  the  promise  I  gave. 


have  been  allowed  to  traverse  the  ground  at 
a  listless  walk ;  for  neither  Kate  nor  Mr. 
Mat  were  in  a  very  blithe  frame  of  mind. 
Kate  was  miserable,  probably  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life ;  and  she  was  surprised  to 
find  how  completely  her  unhappiness  seemed 
to  make  even  her  limbs  listless  and  unfit  for 
their  usual  work.  For  the  first  time  in  her 
life,  a  gallop  on  the  Sillmouth  sands  seemed 
to  have  lost  for  her  its  invigorating  tonic 
and  inspiriting  efficacy. 

They  neither  of  them  spoke  as  long  as  the 
gallop  lasted  ;  but  when  they  drew  up  at  the 
entrance  of  the  little  fishing-town,  through 
which  they  had  to  ride  before  reaching  the 
road  leading  along  the  bank  of  the  estuary 
of  the  Sill  to  Silverton  Bridge,  Kate  pointed 
with  her  whip  to  a  tall  sail  far  out  in  the 
offing,  as  she  said,  sadly,  "  There's  the  cut- 
ter. Would  she  were  back  in  harbor  again  ! 
Is  it  not  dreadful.  ]Mr.  Mat?  Think  of  that 
poor  woman,  with  Lor  children  in  the  cottage 
there,  waiting  for  the  chances  of  the  night, 
watching  the  movements  of  that  ship,  and 
knowing  that  it  is  bent  on  the  destruction  of 
her  husband ;  knowing  that  he  is  braving 
mortal  peril  in  the  pursuit  of  a  livelihood  for 
her  and  her  children  !  What  is  to  become  of 
them  if  the  chance  goes  against  him?  " 

And  the  words  as  she  uttered  them  sug- 
gested to  her  mind  the  possible  alternative  ; 


And,  Winny,"  added  Kate,  as  she  turned  to  ,  and  Winifred's  words  of  the  preceding  even- 


leave  the  cottage, — while  the  consciousness 
that  the  words  she  was  about  to  speak  did 
not  tell  the  whole  or  even  the  main  part  of 
the  truth,  caused  her  to  blush  all  over  her 
face, — "  of  course,  I  shall  be  very  anxious  to 
bear  your  news  of  the  night.      If,  as  please 


ing  recurred  to  her, — those  words  which  had 
made  her  so  angry, — "  There's  others  besides 
wives  may  chance  to  get  broken  hearts  from 
to-morrow  night's  work!  "  She  clearly  ad- 
mitted to  herself  that  Winifred  spoke  the 
truth  ; — henceforward — since  that  converea- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


tion  of  the  morning,  Kate  said  to  herself; 
but  that  was,  it  may  be  believed,  an  error  ; 
there  could  be,  at  all  events,  hovrever,  no  mis- 
take and  no  self-deception  any  longer  on  that 
point.  Yes  I  that  night's  work  might  bring 
a  broken  heart  to  another  as  well  aa  to  Win- 
ifred Pendleton.  But  Kate  did  not  render 
to  her  own  mind  a  full  and  consistent  account 
of  all  the  leelings  that  moved  her  to  add, — as 
she  looked  out  wistfully  to  the  sea  where  the 
large  white  sails  of  the  cutter  were  showing 
themselves  clearly  marked  against  the  heavy 
dun  clouds  of  the  horizon, — 

"  I  suppose  that  there  is  but  little  hope  for 
smugglers  in  a  struggle  with  the  king's  offi- 
cers, jNIr.  Mat?  The  chances  must  be  all 
against  them?" 

"  Why,  yes  ;  'tis  to  be  thought  they  must 
be;  but  there's  this,  you  know:  the  king's 
officers  are  noways  desirous  of  taking  life  if 
they  can  help  it.  They  would  rather  bring 
their  men  in  prisoners,  if  they  can  anyway 
manage  it.  But  with  the  smugglers,  mind 
you,  it  is  different.  They  are  fighting  with 
desperation  and  hate  and  rage  in  their  hearts. 
There's  no  taking  prisoners  with  them  ;  it's 
down  with  you,  or  down  with  me.  And 
there's  the  thought,  that  if  they  are  taken 
prisoners  'twill  go  worse  with  them  than  if 
they  are  killed  in  the  fight  and  get  all  their 
troubles  over  at  once.  All  this,  you  see,  Miss 
Kate,  makes  a  fight  with  the  smugglers  a 
despei-ate  and  chancy  piece  of  business." 

Kate  turned  pale  as  she  listened  to  this 
exposition  of  a  revenue  officer's  dangers, 
which  Mr.  Mat  would  have  spared  her,  if  he 
had  had  any  notion  that  his  words  were  falling 
on  her  heart  with  the  numbing  effect  of  ice- 
drops.  Observing,  however,  as  they  stopped 
to  pay  the  turnpike,  which  is  just  outside 
Sillmouth  on  the  Silverton  road,  how  pale 
she  was,  Mr.  Mat  endeavored  to  draw  some 
encouragement  from  the  signs  of  the  weather. 

"  It  is  as  likely  as  not,"  said  he,  "  that 
there  may  be  no  mischief  after  all !  It'll  be 
just  such  another  night  as  last  night, — as 
dark  as  pitch.  The  wind  is  getting  up  al- 
ready, and  look  at  that  bank  of  black  clouds 
out  seaward.  A  dark  night  and  a  capful  of 
wind,  those  are  the  smugglers'  friends  !  And 
I  should  not  be  surprised  if  the  Saucy  Sally 
were  to  slip  in,  and  get  her  cargo  well  up  the 
country  before  they  can  catch  her." 

"God  grant  it !  "  cried  Kate,  fervently; 
and  a  more  piously  earnest  prayer  for  the 


111 

success  of  a  lawless  enterprise  against  all  law 
and  order  was  never  breathed. 

"  At  what  time  do  you  think  we  might  get 
news  of  the  upshot,  whatever  it  may  be,  up 
at  the  Chase,  Mr.  Mat?"  asked  Kate  after 
they  had  ridden  awhile  in  silence. 

"  As  soon  as  ever  there  is  any  of  us  stir- 
ring, if  Winifi-ed  sends  off  a  messenger  at 
once.  There  is  a  little  bit  of  a  late  moon ; 
and  it  will  all  be  over,  one  way  or  the  other, 
befoi-e  that  rises.  I  should  think  Winny 
might  send  off  somebody  byfour  o'clock,  and 
then  we  should  get  the  news  up  to  Lindisfarn 
by  seven.  They'll  be  up  and  stirring  in  the 
cottage  yonder  all  night,  never  fear  !  " 

"  You  will  be  on  the  lookout,  Mr.  Mat,  I 
dare  say,"  said  Kate  again,  after  another 
long  spell  of  silence  between  the  riders  ;  "for 
you  are  as  fond  of  poor  AVinifred  as  any  of  us. 
Would  you  come  and  tell  me  in  my  room, 
as  soon  as  you  have  heard  anything.  You 
will  find  me  up  and  dressed." 

"  Sure  I  will,  Kate  !  surelwill!  And  I'll 
be  on  the  lookout,  never  fear!  "  replied  Mr. 
Mat,  who,  if  he  had  been  a  less  thoroughly 
simple  and  unsuspicious  creature,  might  have 
been  led  by  the  somewhat  overdone  hypoc- 
risy with  which  Kate  affected  to  limit  her 
anxiety  to  the  fate  of  Winny  Pendleton,  and 
by  her  desire  to  receive  the  tidings  in  the 
privacy  of  her  own  room,  to  the  spot  in  Kate's 
heart  where  her  secret  was  hidden  away  from 
all  eyes.  It  is  just  so  that  a  silly  bird,  which 
has  made  its  nest  in  the  grass,  indicates  the 
whereabouts  of  it  to  her  enemies,  by  her  anx- 
ious flutterings  to  and  fro  about  the  spot. 

The  remainder  of  the  ride  up  to  the  Chase 
was  passed  in  silence.  And  tlien  Kate  spent 
the  rest  of  the  hours  before  dinner-time  ia 
strolling  out  alone  to  the  top  of  Lindisfarn 
brow.  She  was  too  restless  to  be  able  to  re- 
main quietly  at  home ;  she  wanted  to  be 
alone,  and  she  turned  her  steps  through  the 
fine  old  woods  to  the  crest  of  the  hill,  that  she 
might  the  better  scan  the  signs  of  the  tveather. 

In  that  department  the  promise  of  the  com- 
ing night  was  all  that  she  could  wish.  The 
breeze  was  rapidly  rising  ;  and  though  Kate 
was  not  enough  of  a  sailor  to  know  whether 
the  wind  which  was  careering  so  wildly  over 
Lindisfarn  brow,  and  making  the  old  woods 
groan  and  sough  and  sway  to  and  fro,  like 
a  mourner  in  the  excess  of  his  grief,  was  a 
good  wind  for  the  run  from  the  opposite  coast 
to  that  of  Sillshire,  she  was  quite  sure  that 


112 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


there  would  be  enough  of  it  out  at  sea  ;  and 
she  gathered  some  comfort  from  the  reflection 
that  if  the  wind  did  not  serve  to  blow  the 
Saucy  Sally  at  the  top  of  her  speed  into 
safety,  it  might  be  sufliciently  strong  in  the 
opposite  direction  to  prevent  her  from  run- 
ning into  danger.  And  the  night  promised 
to  be  not  only  wild,  but  "dirty,"  as  sail- 
ors graphically  call  it,  and  as  dark  as  the 
most  desperate  doers  of  deeds  that  shun  the 
light  could  desire.  Great  massive  banks  of 
heavy  clouds  wete  heaving  themselves  up 
with  sullen  majesty  from  the  seaward  hori- 
zon, rearing  themselves  into  the  semblance  of 
great  black  cliffs  and  rocks,  varying  the  out- 
line of  their  fantastic  forms  continually  as  the 
storm-wind  drove  them,  but  steadily  coming 
onwards  and  upwards  toward  the  zenith. 
Once  or  twice,  as  Kate  looked  out  from  the 
vantage  ground  of  a  rocky  ridge,  which 
topped  Lindisfarn  brow,  and  raised  its  naked 
and  lichen-grown  head  among  the  surround- 
ing woods,  the  sky  to  seaward  and  the  cloud- 
banks  were  lit  up  momentarily  by  sharp 
flashes  of  forked  lightning,  —  not  the  play- 
ful, hovering,  dallying,  illuminating  summer 
lightning  of  southern  climates,  with  its  man- 
ifold tints  of  every  hue,  from  that  of  red-hot 
iron  to  violet,  but  sharply  drawn,  vicious 
looking  dartings  of  fire,  dividing  the  black 
clouds  like  the  lines  of  cleavage  in  a  crystal. 
And  before  she  had  returned  to  the  house, 
the  big  raindrops  had  begun  to  patter  like 
the  dropping  shots  of  distant  musketry  among 
the  leaves  far  overhead. 

It  was  as  Mr.  Mat  had  said,  just  such  an- 
other night  as  the  last  had  been  ;  only  that 
the  equinoctial  storm  seemed  to  have  gath- 
ered additional  strength  and  fury  from  its  lull 
during  the  daylight  hours.  And  Kate,  as 
she  lay  awake  during  the  interminable  seem- 
ing hours  of  that  long  night,  listening  to  the 
noises  of  the  tempest,  devoutly  hoped,  that 
the  war  which  those  who  were  occupying  their 
business  in  the  great  waters  must  needs  wage 
with  the  elements,  would  avail  to  prevent  a 
more  disastrous  and  dangerous  warfare  be- 
tween man  and  man. 

Toward  morning,  the  wind  fell,  and  a  pale, 
watery-looking  beam  from  the  feeble  crescent 
of  a  waning  moon  came  timidly  and  sadly 
wandering  over  earth  and  sea,  as  a  meek  and 
sorrowing  wife  may  creep  forth  at  daybreak 
to  look  on  the  home-wreck  that  has  been 
caused  by  the  orgy  of  the  preceding  night. 


But  Kate  said  to  herself,  that  the  night's 
work,  whatever  might  have  been  its  result, 
was  done  by  that  time  !  As  she  thought 
what  that  might  be,  which  that  sad,  color- 
less moonbeam  had  to  look  down  on  at  that 
hour,  a  cold  chill  seemed  to  dart  through  her 
heart.  Sleep  had  not  come  near  her  while 
the  stosm  had  lasted  ;  but  now  while  she  was 
counting  the  weary  hours  that  must  elapse 
before  she  could  receive  the  tidings  that  the 
morning  would  bring  her,  she  fell  asleep. 

CHAPTER  XX. 
DEEP  CREEK  COTTAGE. 

When  Kate  opened  her  eyes  on  the  follow- 
ing morning,  a  ray  of  bright  sunshine  was 
finding  its  way  into  her  room  between  the 
imperfectly  closed  shutters;  and  it  was  a 
minute  or  two  before  her  waking  senses 
could  establish  the  connection  between  the 
dreary  sounds  and  thoughts  which  had  oc- 
cupied her  last  conscious  moments  and  the 
cheerful  brightness  tJiat  wooed  her  waking, 
yhe  was  soon  recalled,  however,  to  all  the 
cares  and  troubles  from  which  she  had  es- 
caped for  a  few  hours ;  for  Simmons  was 
standing  by  her  bedside  with  a  folded  note 
in  her  hand. 

"What  time  is  it, Simmons? — late  surely?" 
she  asked,  hurriedly,  as  she  remembei-ed  thej^ 
anxieties  of  the  hour. 

"No,  miss:  not  late!  but  please,  miss, 
Mr.  Mat  told  me  to  wake  you  if  you  was  not 
awake  yet,  and  to  give  you  this  note,  miss, 
as  a  boy  from  Sillmouth  has  brought  up  this 
morning." 

"Just  open  the  shutters,  Simmons,"  said 
Kate,  striving  to  speak  in  her  ordinary  man- 
ner, while  a  cold  spasm  clutched  her  heart. 
"Give  me  the- note,  and  then  run  down, 
there's  a  good  girl,  and  tell  Mr.  Mat  that  I 
am  going  to  get  up  directly,"  she  added, 
anxious  to  obtain  a  moment's  unobserved 
privacy  for  reading  the  dreaded  tidings. 

The  note,  written  by  Winifred,  who, 
among  other  accomplishments  acquired  dur- 
ing her  residence  at  the  Chase,  possessed  that 
of  very  tolerable  penmanship,  ran  as  fol- 
lows ! — 

",My  Dearest  Young  Lady, — Thanks  be  to 
God,  things  is  not  so  bad  as  they  med  have 
been,  though  there's  trouble  enuff  and  like 
enuff  to  be  more  of  it  in  store.  The  revnew 
cutter  chased  the  Saucy  Sally,  but  it  blowed 
great  guns  all  night,  and  Iliram  says  there  aint 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


no  rcvDCW  craft  on  the  water  as  can  overhaul  the 
Saucy  Sal/y'meuch  whether  as  last  night.  The 
cutter  is  hack  in  harhor  again  this  morning,  I 
hear,  and  jolienough  tiiej  had  to  get  l)er  there. 
T-he  Sauiy  Sal/i/  come  into  the  creek  like  a  bird , 
and  though  I  says  it  as  maybe.shouldn't,  there 
isn't  many  sailors  afloat  or  ashore  neither  as 
would  have  brought  her  in  the  way  Hiram 
did.     But  there's  neither  fair  play  nor  honor 
among  them  custom-house  folk.     When  the 
cutter  saw  how  the  game  was,  and  found  out 
that  it  wasn't  none  so  easy  to  put  salt  on  the 
tail  of  the  Saucy  Sal/y,  they  burnt  blew  lights 
and  fired  signal  guns  to  the  coast-guard  lub- 
bers on  shore,  and  jest  as  the  men  was  a-get- 
ting  out  the  cargo  comfortable  and  up   the 
cliils,  down  comes  a  party  of  the  king's  men, 
and  tliere  was  a  fight— more's  the  pity  !     It 
wasn't  our  men's  fault.    And  the  coast-guard- 
ers  was  beat  off,  and  the  cargo  safe  up  the 
country.     But   too  of  the  men  was  carried 
off,  badly  hurt.     And  too  was  hurt  on  our 
side  simily.     Hiram   was  one,  as  he  is  sure 
to  take  the  biggest  share,  when  there's  blows 
a-going.     But  his  hart  aint  nothing  to  sig- 
nify much,  God  be  praised  !     And  then  comes 
the   worst   at   the   last,  as   it  generally  do 
The  other  man  hurt  was  a  stranger  as  took 
on  with  Pendleton  in  France.     Him  and  Pen- 
dleton was  both  brought  into  the  cottage  ; 
and  the  frenchman  I  am  sadly  afeared,  has 
got  his  death.     And   to  make  it   worse  he 
can't  speak  a  word  of  English,  and  what  in 
the  world  am  I  to  do  ?    My  dearest  Miss  Kate, 
if  you  would,  you  and  Mr.    Mat,  have  the 
great  kindness  and  charity  to  ride  over  and 
look  in.     Somebody  ought  to  speak  to  this 
poor   frenchman,  and   he  a-dying,   as  I  am 
Borely  afeared.     The  men  are  all  away  with 
the  things  up  the  country,  and  the  place  is 
as  quiet  as  if  there  was  not  such  a  thing  as  a 
pound  of  contraband  baccy  in  all  creation. 
l?endleton  is  not  here,  no  one  but  this  poor 
frenchman.     For  Hiram  and  the  rest  of  the 
men   must  take  to   the   moor   for  a  spell. 
And  so,  my   dear  young  lady  if  you  would 
look  in,  you  would  do  a  Christian  charity  to 
this  poor  frenchman,  a-dying  without  opening 
his  mouth  to  a  human  sole,  and  a   loving 
kindness  to  your  faithful  and  dewtiful  old 
servant  to  command, 

"  Winifred  Pendleton. 
"  P.  S.     Pray  du  !  there  is  a  dear,  good 
young   lady,  my  dear   Miss  Kate.      With 
speed." 

Kate  read  this  letter  with  feelings  of  the 
most  heartfelt  relief.  And  when  she  reached 
the  conclusion  of  Winifred's  story,  she  may 
be  held  excusable  if  the  ill-news  contained  in 
it  was  not  sufficient  to  throw  any  very  extin- 
guishing wet-blanket  upon  the  great  glad- 


113 

nees  which  the  former  part  of  the  letter  had 
caused  her.  She  was  very  sorry  for  the  un- 
fortunate Frenchman  ;  but  if  he  would  needs 
thrust  himself  where  he  had  so  little  business 
to  be,  what  could  he  expect  ?  and  it  was,  at 
all  events,  a  comfort  that  if  the  protection  of 
the  king's  revenue  required  him  to  be  killed, 
the  captain  and  crew  of  the  Petrel  had  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  killing  of  him. 

Kate  was,  however,  in  a  mood  to  do  any- 
thing in  her  power  for  any  human  beinc, 
especially  for  her  old  favorite  Winny ; — 
which  amounts,  indeed,  to  little  more  than 
saying  that  she  was  herself  again.  She  de- 
termined, if  she  could  induce  Mr.  Mar  to  con- 
sent, of  which  she  had  never  very  much  doubt, 
let  the  matter  in  hand  be  what  it  might,  to 
ride  over  again  the  same  ground  she  had  trav- 
ersed the  day  before,  immediately  after  break- 
fast ;  and  she  pleased  herself  with  thinkin*' 
what  a  different  ride  it  would  be  from  that 
of  yesterday. 

She  showed  Winifred's  note  to  Mr.  Mac, 
who  had  already  learned  from  the  bearer  of 
it  the  general  upshot  of  the  night's  work, — 
that  the  Saucy  Sally  had  landed  her  cargo ; 
that  the  smugglers  had  escaped  from  the  pur- 
suit of  the  cutter,  but  had  been  attacked  by 
a  party  of  coast-guardmen  on  land ;  that 
two  of  the  latter  and  two  of  the  former  party 
had  been  hurt  ;  that  one  of  these  was  Hiram 
Pendleton,  but  that  his  wound  was  of  no 
great  consequence,  and  that  he  had  been  able 
to  escape  to  the  moor  with  the  rest  of  the 
men  implicated  in  the  affair.  Mr.  Mat  had 
heard  nothing  of  the  other  wounded  man ; 
and  when  he  learned  the  nature  of  the  case 
from  Kate,  he  expressed  his  thankfulness  for 
the  providential  dispensation  whicli  had  or- 
dained that  the  principal  sufferer  should  be  a 
Frenchman,  but  at  the  same  time  assented  to 
Kate's  proposition  that  it  would  be  but  an 
act  of  common  charity  to  see  what  could  be 
done  for  the  wounded  man,  though  decidedly 
resenting  and  repudiating  Kate's  mention  of 
him  as  a  '■'■fellow-creature.^^ 

So  Birdie  and  Mr.  Mat's  mare  were  sad- 
dled after  breakfast,  and  again  found  them- 
selves, after  a  quicker  and  a  brisker  ride  than 
that  of  yesterday,  at  the  foot  of  the  little  zig- 
zag path  which  led  to  the  smuggler's  cot- 
tage. 

There  was  no  need  for  Mr.  Mat  to  go  up 
first;  for  both  Winifred's  boys  had  been  on 
the  lookout  for  their  arrival,  as  Mrs.  Pendle- 


114 


ton  had  had  very  little  doubt  that  her  letter 
would  avail  to  bring  Kate  thither  very  shortly. 
The  j;ood  dame  herself  vras  waiting  for  them 
at  the  top  of  the  path,  and  poured  forth  her 
thanks  for  their  prompt  acquiescence  in  her 
prayer. 

"No,  he  is  alive,"  said  she,  in  reply  to 
Kate's  first  hurried  question, — "  he  is  alive  ; 
but  I  am  afeared  he  wont  last  long ;  he  is 
a  deal  weaker  than  he  was  when  he  was 
brought  in.  And  doctor  says  he  can't  live. 
I  am  so  thankful  you  have  come,  Miss  Kate  !  " 

"  Could  not  the  doctor  speak  to  him  in  his 
own  lingo?  "  asked  Mr.  Mat. 

"  What,  old  Bagstock,  the  doctor  to  Sill- 
mouth  ?  Not  he  !  not  a  word,  no  more  than 
I  can.  But  I'll  tell'ee.  Miss  Kate,  I've  a  no- 
tion the  man  understands  what  is  said  in 
English,  though  he  wont  let  on  to  talk  it." 

"  Ah  !  like  enough,  like  enough!  They 
are  a  queer  set,"  said  Mr.  Mat. 

"  Would  you  please  to  come  in  and  sec 
him,  miss?  "asked  Winifred;  for  the  pre- 
ceding conversation  had  taken  place  in  the 
little  bit  of  flower-planted  space  at  the  top 
of  the  zigzag  path,  between  the  edge  of  the 
cliff  and  the  cottage. 

"  Yes ;  I  will  go  in  with  you,"  said  Kate  ; 
"but  I  was  thinking,  Winny,  that  anyway 
the  poor  man  ought  to  have  some  better  ad- 
vice than  old  Jlr.  Bagstock.  I  would  not 
trust  a  sick  dog  in  his  hands." 

"  It  needs  a  deal  of  skill  to  cure  a  sick 
dog,"  said  Mr.  Mat,  "  because  they  can't 
speak  to  you,  to  tell  you  what  is  the  matter 
with  them.  And  a  Frenchman  is  all  the 
same  for  the  same  reason.  Go  in  to  him, 
Kate  ;  you  can  speak  to  bim.  For  my  part, 
I'll  stay  here  ;  I  should  be  no  use." 

And  so  saying,  Mr.  Mat  sat  himself  down 
J5  a  sort  of  summer-house  in  Mrs.  Pendle- 
ton's garden,  constructed  of  half  an  old  boat, 
set  on  end  on  its  sawed-off  part,  and  richly 
overgrown  with  honeysuckle, — a  fragrant 
Beat,  commanding  a  lookout  over  coast  and 
sea  that  many  a  garden-seat  in  lordly  demesnes  , 
might  envy, — and  having  comfortably  estab- 
lished himself  there,  drew  from  his  pocket  a 
supply  of  tobacco  and  the  small  instrument 
needed  for  the  enjoyment  thereof— (for  Mr 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


and  proceeded  to  spend  a  half-hour,  if  need 
were,  which  he  was  sure  not  to  find  a  long 
one. 

Kate  went  with  Mrs.  Pendleton  into  the 
cottage. 

It  consisted  of  two  rooms  down-stairs,  and 
two  rooms  up-stairs,  together  with  some  con- 
veniences for  back-kitchen,  etc.,  in  the  form 
of  a  "  Ican-to,"  built  at  the  rear  between 
the  cliff  and  the  front  rooms.  Of  the  two 
rooms  down-stairs,  one  was  floored  with  flag- 
stones, and  served  as  the  living  room  of  the 
family.  The  other  was  boarded  and  sanded, 
had  a  colored  print  of  Nelson  over  the  man- 
tlepiece  ;  two  bottles  with  colored  sands  ar- 
ranged in  layers  within  them,  and  two  dried 
star-fish  on  it ;  a  green  baize-covered  round 
table  and  two  Windsor  chairs  in  the  centre 
of  the  room  ;  a  brilliantly  painted  japanned 
tea-tray  leaning  against  the  wall  behind  a 
large  Bible — both  articles  alike  deemed  too 
good  and  splendid  ever  to  be  used — on  a 
side  table.  This  i-oom  was  always  kept 
locked,  and  sei-ved  for  nothing  at  all,  save 
keeping  up  in  the  minds  of  the  members  of  the 
family  a  consciousness  of  social  dignity,  and 
assuring  their  social  status  iimong  their  neigh- 
bors by  the  possession  of  a  parlor.  The  pro- 
fession of  the  head  of  the  family,  it  must  be 
remembered,  made  some  such  sacrifice  to 
public  opinion  more  necessary  than  it  might 
have  been  in  another  case  ;  for  though,  as 
has-  -been  said,  the  trade  of  a  bold  smuggler 
was  looked  on  with  much  indulgence  in  those 
days  and  in  those  parts  of  the  country,  still 
such  an  amount  of  prejudice  against  the  re- 
spectability of  a  career  of  lawbreaking  existed 
as  would  place  a  smuggler  with  a  parlor  only 
on  the  same  level  of  respectability  as  a  law- 
abiding  mechanic  without  that  aristocratic 
appendage. 

It  would  be  an  error,  therefore,  to  say  that 
the  sanded  parlor  of  the  smuggler's  cottage 
served  no  purpose,  even  if  those  august  occa- 
sions were  forgotten,  when  Mr.  Pendleton, 
in  great  state,  smoked  a  long  pipe  and  drank 
brandy  and  water  in  company  with  some  not 
too  narrow-minded  dealer  in  any  of  the  arti- 
cles respecting  wliich  Mr.  Pendleton  and  the 
custom-house   authorities  wei-e   at  variance. 


Mat  was  like  "  poor  Edwin,"  of  whom  Dr.  \  That  bold  smuggler  and  very  specially  ablc- 

Beattie  sings  in  his  famous  poem  of  "  The    bodied  seaman  was  always  on  these  occasions 

Minstrel,"  that  he  was  i  dressed  in  a  full  suit  of  black  cloth,  and  got 

^^         '      ,  \  up   generallv   in   imitation   of   a   Dissentincr 

"  No  vulgar  boy  ;  1      ■    •  ^  it  .i  ^\  ■         l  j  .l 

Dainties  he  heeded  not,  nor  gaud,  nor  toy,        |  minister.     He  assumed  this  costume  and  the 

Save  one  short  pipe  !  "")  title  of  Mister  together,  and  never  at  such 


LINDISFARN 

times  BUioked  anything  sliortcr  than  a  fuU- 
leng-tiied  luilf-yarci  of  cluv,  with  a  red  stain 
at  the  end  of  it,  wiiich  lie  iiated.  And  alto* 
gethcr  he  was  very  unhappy  during  these 
periods  of  relaxation  and  enjoyment ;  but 
indulged  in  them  occasionally  because  he 
deemed  it  right  to  do  so. 

The  two  upper  rooms  were  the  sleeping- 
chambers  of  the  family ;  and  when  the 
wounded  stranger  had  been  thrown  upon  her 
hospitality,  it  would  have  been  easy  for  Mrs. 
Pendleton  to  have  arranged  a  bed  in  the 
sanded  parlor,  and  so  avoid  the  necessity  of 
turning  any  of  her  family  out  of  their  sleep- 
ing-quarters. But  that  would  have  involved 
sacrilege  in  the  desecration  of  the  parlor  to 
ordinary  and  secular  uses,  and  was  not  to  be 
thought  of. 

So  Mrs.  Pendleton  had  turned  her  boys 
out  of  their  room,  and  had  put  the  stranger 
in  their  place.  It  was  a  room  that  many  an 
inhal)itant  of  princely  palaces  in  the  streets 
of  cities  might  envy  !  Not  very  large  and 
not  very  lofty  ;  but  with  such  a  window ! — a 
good-sized  casement  window  looking  out  on 
the  little  plot  of  garden  ground,  and  beyond 
it  over  such  an  expanse  of  varied  coast,  and 
almost  equally  varied,  and,  what  is  more, 
changefully  varied,  sea  and  sky,  as  few  win- 
dows could  match.  And  every  sweet,  invig- 
orating, health-laden  breeze  from  the  ocean 
came  fresh  from  its  dalliance  with  the  wave- 
tops  into  that  chamber  ;  and  though  the 
storm-winds  also  iiowled  around  it,  and  pas- 
sionately shook  it,  and  beat  against  it,  the  in- 
mates of  it  were  well  used  to  the  roughly  mu- 
sical lullaby,  and  slept  none  the  less  soundly 
for  it. 

But  the  storm  of  the  two  preceding  nights 
had  entirely  expended  itself.  The  ocean,  like 
an  angry  child,  had  forgotten  all  its  so  recent 
fury,  as  quickly  as  it  had  yielded  to  it,  and 
was  shining  in  the  mid-day  sunshine.  And 
a  soft  wind  from  the  south  was  blowing  gently 
into  the  open  window  immediately  opposite 
to  the  sick  man's  bed.  The  casement  was 
low  ;  and  the  old-fastiioned  bed  was  high  ; 
so  that  the  occupant  of  it,  propped  up  by  pil- 
lows which  rested  against  the  white-washed 
w^all  behind  the  bed,  could  see,  not  indeed 
the  garden-plot  immediately  beneath  the  win- 
dow, or  indeed  any  part  of  the  coast-view 
stretching  away  on  either  side  of  it,  but  the 
distant  sea,  with  its  skinnuering  paths  of 
ligiit  and  s'.iade,  and  tlie  white  sails  of  the 


CHASE.  115 


ships  and  fishing-smacks  as  they  turned  up 
their  canvas  to  the  sunbeams,  like  sea-birds 
turning  in  their  flight,  or,  in  obedience  to  an 
"over"  of  the  helm,  dwindled  to  a  barely 
visible  speck  on  the  horizon. 

The  stranger,  who  had  fought  among  the 
foremost  and  fiercest  in  the  fray  with  the 
coast-guard  men,  had  received  two  bad  hurts: 
one  on  the  temple  and  side  of  the  head,  and 
one  in  the  chest.  His  head  was  bound  up, 
not  very  neatly  or  skilfully  it  would  have 
seemed  to  scientific  surgical  eyes,  with  a  su- 
perabundance of  linen  cloths,  which  still 
showed  in  parts  of  them  the  stains  of  the 
blood  which  had  soaked  them  through  when 
they  were  first  used  to  stanch  it.  The  other 
wound  had  been  doubtless  treated  in  a  simi- 
lar manner ;  but  it  was  covered  by  the  bed- 
clothes, and  therefore  contributed  no  part  to 
the  ghastly  appearance  of  the  patient,  as  he 
lay  gazing  wistfully  over  the  expanse  of  the 
waters  which  had  borne  him  to  this  sad  end- 
ing of  his  career. 

For  he  had  no  doubt  that  he  was  dying ; 
and  old  Bagstock's  shrugging  declaration ,  that 
he  did  not  see  that  there  was  anything  to  be 
done  for  him,  did  but  needlessly  confirm  his 
own  conviction. 

Old  jMr.  Bagstock  was  a  "  general  practi- 
tioner "  of  the  sort  that  general  practitioners 
mostly  were  in  remote  districts  and  among 
poor  populations  forty  years  ago.  Old  Bag- 
stock  was  not  the  only  general  pjractitioner  at 
Sillmouth.  The  other  was  young  Rawlings  ; 
and  there  was  all  the  difference  between  them, 
to  the  advantage  of  the  latter,  that  the  two 
epithets  denoted,  —  a  difference  which,  at 
just  about  that  period  in  the  history  of  medi- 
cal science  and  practice,  was  far  from  a  small 
one.  But  old  Bagstock  almost  exclusively 
commanded  the  confidence  and  the  adherence 
of  the  maritime  population  of  Sillmouth. 
Sailors  are  especially  tenacious  of  old  ways 
and  habits.  Old  Bagstock  had  brought  the 
greater  number  of  the  Sillmouth  sailors,  fish- 
ermen, and  smugglers  into  the  world;  and 
they  seemed  to  feel  that  that  fact  gave  him  a 
vested  right  to  a  monopoly  in  seeing  them 
out  of  it.  A  number  of  things  old  Bagstock 
had  done,  and  a  number  of  people  he  had 
known  before  that  Rawlings  had  been  ever 
heard  of,  were  eonstnitly  cited  as  incontro- 
vertible arguments  to  the  disfavor  of  the  lat- 
ter. And  sailors  have  a  very  strong  convic- 
tion   that   people   die  "  when  their  time  is 


116 

come,"  and  are  much  more  inclined  to  at- 
tribute to  that  fact  the  death  of  any  patient 
whatever,  than  to  any  lack  of  skill  in  the 
doctor. 

As  for  old  Bagstock  himself,  he  held  a  not 
•widely  different  theory,  especially  as  to  the 
roughs  of  the  not  very  select  circle  of  his 
practice.  He  considered  that  if  a  smuggler 
got  a  mortal  wound,  it  was  useless  to  try  to 
cure  him  of  it ;  and  if  he  got  a  wound  wliich 
was  not  mortal,  he  was  so  hard  and  hardy 
and  tought  hat  he  was  sure  to  recover  from 
it.  And  it  is  probable  that  his  practice  was 
more  accurately  squared  to  the  logical  con- 
sequences of  this  theory,  in  cases  where  there 
was  small  prospect  of  much  or  any  remunera- 
tion for  his  care,  and  most  of  all  in  that  of  a 
stranger  and  a  Frenchman,  of  whom  no  one 
knew  anything,  and  for  whose  doctor's  bills 
it  was  not  likely  that  anybody  he  could  get 
at  would  choose  to  be  responsible. 

So,  when  the  wounded  man  had  told  Pen- 
dleton, before  he  had  started  for  the  moor, 
that  it  was  all  over  with  him,  and  Pendle- 
ton, whose  traffic  on  the  other  side  of  the  wa- 
ter had  enabled  him  to  comprehend  a  few 
words  of  French,  had  told  the  same  to  his 
wife,  who  repeated  the  same  thing  to  the  doc- 
tor, old  Bagstock  had  perfectly  acquiesced  in 
the  opinion  ;  and  having  somewhat  perfunc- 
torily stanched  the  flow  of  blood,  and  bound 
up  the  wounds,  had  taken  himself  off  to  some 
more  medically  or  pecuniarily  promising  case. 
And  it  having  been  settled  thus  nem.  con. 
that  the  wounded  man  was  to  die,  Mrs.  Pen- 
dleton, in  her  husband's  absence,  and  her  anx- 
ieties about  the  consequences  and  responsi- 
bilities that  might  fall  upon  her,  as  a  result 
of  the  death  taking  place  in  her  house,  was 
exceedingly  comforted  and  tranquillized  by 
the  appearance  of  her  kind  friends  from  the 
Chase. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 
A   GOOD   SAMARITAN. 

Kate  knew  perfectly  well,  when  she  started 
from  the  Chase  on  her  present  errand  of 
kindness  towards  her  old  favorite,  and  of 
Christian  charity  toward  the  wounded  stran- 
ger, that  the  business  was  not  a  pleasant  one. 
And  it  was  not  without  considerable  shrink- 
ing and  nervousness  that  she  followed  Mrs. 
Pendleton  up  the  steep  and  narrow  staircase 
of  the  cottage,  and  entered  the  chamber  in 
which  the  sick  anan  had  been  laid.     But  she 


NDISFARN    CHASE. 

had  not  been  prepared  for  the  shock  which 
the  sight  of  the  patient  occasioned  her. 
The  spectacle  was  one  entirely  new  to  her  ; 
and  the  first  impression  that  it  produced  on 
her  mind  was  that  too  surely  the  man  was 
dying. 

The  blood-dabbled  cloth  around  his  brows, 
the  long  locks  of  coal-black  hair  escaping 
from  under  it,  on  the  side  of  the  head  which 
was  not  wounded,  and  the  black  unshaven 
beard,  added  by  the  force  of  contrast  to  the 
ghastly  paleness  of  his  face.  He  had  large 
dark  eyes,  which  must  have  been  handsome, 
when  seen  under  normal  circumstances,  but 
which  now,  sunken  and  haggard  as  they 
were,  and  with  a  wild  and  anxious-looking 
gleam,  the  result  of  fever,  in  them,  only 
served  to  add  to  the  weird  and  fearful  appear- 
ance of  his  face. 

"  Tell  Mr.  Mat,"  said  Kate,  turning  back 
with  a  little  shudder  to  Mrs.  Pendleton,  as 
she  was  following  the  young  lady  into  the 
room,  "not  to  leave  the  garden  ;  he  may  be 
needed." 

She  would  have  been  puzzled  to  account 
rationally  for  the  impulse  which  induced  her 
to  say  this.  It  was,  in  fact,  merely  the  in- 
stinctive connection  between  a  feeling  of 
alarm,  and  the  desire  not  to  be  alone  in  the 
presence  of  that  which  causes  it.  Mrs.  Pen- 
dleton looked  round  in  her  turn,  to  one  of  her 
boys,  who,  childlike,  had  crept,  with  feelings 
of  awe,  up  the  staircase  after  them,  and 
said, — 

"  Go  down,  Jem,  into  the  garden,  and  tell 
Mr.  Mat  that  Miss  Lindisfarn  begs  he  will 
keep  within  call,  in  case  she  might  want 
him." 

The  wounded  man  turned  his  head  quickly 
toward  the  door,  at  which  the  two  women 
were  standing,  as  the  above  words  were  ut- 
tered, and  gazed  earnestly  at  them  for  a  few 
moments,  and  then,  with  the  restless  action 
peculiar  to  pain  and  fever,  turned  his  face 
toward  the  wall  on  the  farther  side  of  the  bed. 

"You  are  badly  wounded,  I  fear,"  said 
Kate,  in  French,  and  in  a  trembling  voice, 
as  she  stepped  up  to  the  bedside. 

'*  Yes,  to  death  !"  answered  the  sufferer  in 
the  same  language,  casting  his  eyes  up  at 
her  face  for  a  moment,  and  then  uneasily  re- 
suming his  former  position.  He  had  only 
uttered  three  words ;  but  the  intonation  of 
them  seemed  to  Kate's  ear  to  carry  with  it 
strong  evidence  that  the  stranger  belong-ed 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


to  a  more  cultivated  social  grade  than  that 
to  which  the  Sillmoutii  einugjzilcrs  iiPually 
belonged.  It  might  be,  however,  K;ite 
thought,  that  they  managed  matters  con- 
nected with  the  education  of  smugglers  bet- 
ter in  France. 

"  I  came  to  see  what  could  be  done  to  cure 
you,  or,  at  least,  to  comfort  you,"  she  said, 
in  a  voice  indicating  even  more  misgiving 
than  before  ;  for  the  stern  shortness  of  the 
man's  manner  was  discouraging. 

"Nothing  can  be  done  for  the  first,  and 
little  enough  for  the  last,"  he  said,  turning 
restlessly  and  impatiently  on  the  bed. 

"  Did  the  doctor  say  when  he  would  come 
back?"  asked  Kate,  turning  towards  Mrs. 
Pendleton,  who  was  standing  at  the  bed-foot. 
"No,  Miss  Kate,  he  didn't.  I  zem  he 
thought  there  was  no  use  in  coming  back 
again,"  returned  Winifred, shaking  her  head 
sadly. 

"  But  it  is  impossible,"  returned  Kate, 
"to  leave  a  man  to  die  in  this  manner. 
What  are  we  to  do?  I  declare,  that  old  Mr. 
Bagstock  has  no  more  humanity  than  a 
brute,  to  leave  a  poor  man  in  this  state." 

"  Well,  miss,  for  the  matter  of  that.  Dr. 
Bagstock  knows  if  a  man  must  die,  he  must ! 
And  what's  the  good  of  running  up  expenses 
and  wasting  time  for  nothing?  Dr.  Bag- 
stock  have  a  deal  to  do,  arid  heaps  o'  people 
to  see  tu.  And  poor  folk  cant  have  doctors 
a-fiddling  about  'em,  just  to  amuse  their 
friends,  the  way  rich  folks  du.  If  Bagstock 
could  ha'  saved  his  life,  he'd  ha'  done  it." 

"  You  were  not  able  to  speak  to  the  doc- 
tor?" said  Kate  interrogatively,  turning  to 
the  patient,  and  speaking,  as  before,  in 
French . 

"  What  was  the  need  of  speaking?"  re- 
turned the  suiferer,  testily.  "  I  want  no  doc- 
tor to  tell  me  that  I  am  dying.  I  feel  the 
life  ebbing  out  of  me." 

"  You  must  have  lost  much  blood  !  "  said 
Kate,  to  whose  mind  the  stranger's  phrase 
had  suggested  the  idea. 

For  all  reply,  he  faintly  raised  one  hand, 
which  was  lying  outside  the  bedclothes,  on 
the  coverlet,  to  his  head,  and  let  it  drop 
again  heavily  by  his  side. 

"  But  the  wounds  have  been  effectually 
stanched,  I  suppose?"  returned  Kate,  who 
was  striving  to  apply  her  very  slender  stock 
of  surgical   ideas   to  the  question,  whether  to  ask  about  a  priest.     I  suppose  he  is  a  Cath- 


117 

indeed  it  was  necessary  to  alxindon  all  hope 
of  saving  life. 

"  I  wish  you  would  send  the  woman  to  get 
me  a  glass  of  fresh  water.  That  in  the  bot- 
tle here  is  hot,"  said  the  patient. 

"  lie  wants  to  drink,  Winny  ;  and  he  says 
tliis  water  is  hot.  It  is  the  fever,  you  know. 
Go,  there  is  a  good  soul,  and  bring  him  some 
fresh  from  the  spring." 

Mrs.  Pendleton  took  the  bottle  in  her  hand, 
and  left  the  room,  without  speaking.  As 
soon  as  her  step  had  been  heard  descending 
the  stair,  which  passed  immediately  on  the 
other  side  of  the  wall  at  the  bed-head,  the 
stranger  turned  his  face  to  the  side  of  the 
bed  at  which  Kate  was  standing,  and  looking 
up  wistfully  at  her,  with  the  gleam  of  fever 
in  his  restless  eyes,  said  in  English, — 

"  I  wish  I  could  speak  with  you  privately. 
Find  some  means  of  sending  that  woman  out 
of  the  room." 

"You  can  speak  English,  then?"  said 
Kate,  much  surprised. 

"  I  can  ;  but  have  no  wish  to  do  so  before 
these  people.  You  spoke  of  comfort !  You 
may  give  some  to  a  dying  man,  if  you  will 
do  as  I  have  asked  you.  You  can  do  so  in  no 
other  way." 

"Certainly,  I  will  do  as  you  desire,"  re- 
plied Kate,  not  without  a  little  trepidation 
and  beating  of  the  heart ;  "  but,"  she  added, 
as  the  idea  suddenly  flashed  across  her  mind, 
"  I  have  a  friend  here  with  me — a  relative; 
he  is  a  gentleman  whom  you  could  trust  im- 
plicitly—with anything,"  she  added,  hesitat- 
ing a  little,  "  that  ought  to  be  told  to  an 
hsflorable  gentleman, — and  who  has  more 
experience,  and  would  be  of  more  use  than 
I  could  be  " — 

"  No,"  said  the  dying  man,  decisively  ; 
"  if  you  will  do  the  charity  I  have  asked,  it 
must  be  done  as  I  have  asked  it,  and  no  oth- 
erwise." 

Mrs.  Pendleton's  step,  returning  with  the 
water,  was  heard  on  the  stair  as  he  finished 
speaking;  and  Kate,  turning  with  a  light 
step  to  the  door,  met  her  on  the  landing- 
place  just  outside  of  it ;  and  taking  the  wa- 
ter-bottle from  her  hands,  whispered  to  her, 
"  Go  down-stairs,  Winny,- and  leave  me 
with  him  for  a  little  while.  He  says  he  wants 
to  speak  to  me  alone.  I  suppose  he  has 
something  on  his  mind.     Perhaps  he  wants 


118 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


olic.  But,  WinHy,  whatever  you  do,  don't 
leave  the  house  ;  bo  that,  if  I  call,  you  may 
hear  me  and  come  directly.     Mind,  novr  !  " 

Mrs.  Pendleton  gave  her  a  reassuring  look 
and  nod  ;  and  Kate,  with  a  feeling  of  no  lit- 
tle nervousness,  returned  to  the  stranger's 
bedside. 

"  Is  the  door  shut?  "  asked  the  stranger. 

*'  Yes,  the  door  is  shut ;  and  Mrs.  Pendle- 
ton has  gone  down-stairs.  You  cannot  be 
overheard,"  said  Kate. 

"  You  have  ah-eady  perceived,"  said  the 
man,  after  a  pause  of  some  little  duration, 
while  he  had  apparently  been  hesitating  how 
to  enter  on  what  he  wished  to  say, — "  you 
have  no  doubt  already  understood  that  I  am 
not  what  my  comrades  of  last  night  supposed 
me  to  be,  and  that  I  have  reasons  for  wishing 
them  not  to  be  better  informed  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  I  suppose  so,  from  your  lead- 
ing them  to  imagine  that  you  cannot  speak 
English,"  replied  Kate.  ' 

"  I  joined  a  smuggling  venture  from  the 
opposite  coast  as  a  means,  the  only  one  open 
to  me,  of  coming  here  unknown  to  those  who 
might  recognize  me, — for  I  have  been  known 
in  the  country  formerly, — and  of  securing  an 
unquestioned  return  by  the  same  means  to- 
gether with — a  person  whom  I  wished  to 
take  back  with  me.  All  has  been  frustrated 
by  last  night's  unlucky  work." 

He  paused,  exhausted  apparently  by  the 
few  words  he  had  spoken,  or,  perhaps  men- 
tally occupied  in  arranging  what  he  had  to 
say,  so  as  best  to  place  the  matter  before  his 
hearer,  and  then  proceeded  with  considerable 
hesitation, — 

"  The  woman  here  called  you  Miss  Lindis- 
farn?" 

"  That  is  my  name, — Kate  Lindisfarn," 
replied  she. 

"  And  she  sent  a  child  to  give  a  message 
from  you  to  Mr.  Mat  in  the  garden?  " 

"  She  did  so!  " 

"  That,  then,  must  be  Mr.  Matthew  Lindis- 
farn, of  the  Chase.  And  you  have  come  all 
the  way  from  Lindisfarn  Chase,  eight  or  nine 
miles  from  this  place,  to  see  me.  I  know  the 
country,  you  see,  and  something  of  the  peo- 
ple." 

"  Certainly,  you  must  be  a  Sillshire  man. 
But  in  that  case  have  you  no  friends  here, 
who,  even  if  you  wished  to  avoid  them  before, 
ought  to  be  made  acquainted  with  your  pres- 
ent condition?  " 


"  I  have  relatives  here,-  -who  would  by  no 
means  thank  ms  for  making  myself  known  to 
them,  or  to  anybody  else.  Nevertheless,  it  is 
needful  that  they  should  be  hereafter  made 
aware  that  T  was  living  this  day,  and  that  as 
soon  as  I  am  dead  they  should  know  that  1 
am  alive  no  longer.  You  will  see,  therefore. 
Miss  Lindisfarn,  that  my  object  is  to  tell  you 
who  I  am,  and  to  obtain  your  promise  to  keep 
the  information  secret  until  I  have  breathed 
my  last.     Will  you  promise  me  to  do  so  ?  " 

"  I  will  keep  your  secret,"  said  Kate,  "  if 
it  is  not  wrong  to  do  so,  and  if  it  is  not  evi- 
dently my  duty  to  disclose  it." 

"  You  will  be  well  aware,  when  you  have 
heard  it,  that  the  keeping  of  it  is  essential  to 
the  welfare  of  all  parties  concerned,  and  that 
the  disclosing  of  it  could  only  serve  to  cause 
misery  and  distress." 

"  In  that  case,"  returned  Kate,  "  you  may 
certainly  depend  upon  my  not  disclosing  it.'' 

The  stranger  paused  again  for  some  min- 
utes, and  turned  away  his  face  toward  the 
wall  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  bed  to  that 
on  which  Kate  was  standing.  Then  turning 
his  face  and  wistful,  feverish  eyes  again  tow- 
ard her,  by  rolling  his  head  on  the  pillow,  he 
said, — 

"  You  have  an  uncle,  Miss  Lindisfarn,  Dr. 
Theophilus  Lindisfarn,  living  in  the  Close,  at 
Silverton?  " 

Kate,  wondering  greatly,  made  no  reply, 
till  he  added,  "  That  is  so,  is  it  not?" 

"  Yes,"  she  then  said  ;  "  Dr.  Lindisfarn 
in  the  Close  is  my  uncle." 

"  And  Lady  Sempronia,  his  wife,  lives 
there  also?  " 

"  Of  course  she  lives  there  also,"  said  Kate, 
in  growing  astonishment. 

"I  did  not  know  whether  she  was  yet  liv- 
ing," said  the  stranger  ;  and  then  from  want 
of  strength  or  some  other  reason,  he  paused 
again.     After  a  while,  he  continued, — 

"  Has  Dr.  Lindisfarn,  in  the  Close,  at  Sil- 
verton, any  children?  " 

"  He  has  none  now.  He  had  a  son  once, 
who  died,  many  years  ago." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  when  and  where  he 
died?"  asked  the  stranger,  looking  up  at 
her. 

"  I  do  not  know  exactly  when  ;  it  was  sev- 
eral years  ago  ;  and  I  believe  that  he  died  in 
iVmerica." 

"  Do  you  know  at  all  the  manner  of  hia 
death?" 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"Yes;  he  was  killed  liy  the  Pvcd  Indians, 
in  a  hunting  cxcurssion." 

"  Do  you  know  how  that  information 
reached  his  family?  " 

"  Not  exactly.  I  know  only  that  pains 
were  taken,  and  people  were  sent  to  America 
to  find  out  the  facts,  and  that  it  was  consid- 
ered certain  that  he  had  died  as  I  have  said." 

"  Nevertheless,  he  did  not  die  in  that  man- 
ner," said  the  stranger,  with  a  heavy  sigh. 

The  truth  then  flashed  upon  Kate,  that  the 
man  who  was  speaking  to  her  from  his  dying 
bed,  was  indeed  that  lost  cousin,  whose  ex- 
istence, whose  death,  and  whose  history  and 
memory  liad  always  been  to  her  imagination 
shrouded  in  a  veil  of  mystery.  She  knew 
only  that  such  an  one  had  lived,  had  died, 
and  for  some  vaguely  understood  reason  was 
never  mentioned  by  any  one  of  the  family  ; 
though  it  is  possible  that,  if  her  mind  had 
been  set  to  work  upon  the  subject,  Kate's 
slender  knowledge  of  the  line  of  descent  and 
of  real  property  might  have  sufiiced  to  make 
her  aware  that  the  existence  of  her  cousin 
would  affect  her  own  position  as  one  of  the 
heiresses  of  the  lands  of  Lindisfarn  ;  still, 
never  having  been  taught  to  look  at  the  fact 
of  his  disappearance  in  its  connection  with 
that  subject,  and  not  having  any  precise 
knowledge  of  the  real  state  of  the  case,  the 
sudden  conviction  that  her  cousin  was  living, 
and  was  there  before  her,  did  not  present  it- 
self to  her  mind  as  bearing  in  any  way  upon 
that  matter.  There  was  no  mixture,  there- 
fore, of  any  baser  alloy  in  the  feeling  with 
which  she  replied  to  his  last  words,  "  Can  it 
be  possible  that  you  are  be, — Julian,  my  lost 
cousin?  " 

"  It  is  possible  !  it  is  so  !  "  he  replied, 
without  manifesting  the  least  share  in  the 
effusion  of  feeling  with  which  Kate  had 
spoken.  "  The  information  brought  from 
America  was  incorrect.  I  was  nearly  but 
not  quite  killed  by  the  Indians.  They  strike 
less  heavily  than  the  king's  custom-house 
oflBcers.  Worse  luck  !  I  survived  that  time  ; 
and  I  am,  still  living  for  a  little  while,  Julian 
Lindisfarn." 

"  But,  gracious  heavens!  you  must  have 
some  better  assistance — I  must  send" —  cried 
Kate,  turning  hastily  toward  the  door. 

"  Stay  !  "  said  the  dying  man  ;  "  no  better 
assistance  could  be  of  any  service  to  me  ;  and 
remember  your  promise  !  " 

"  I  will  keep  it  faithfully.     Be  assured  of 


119 


that.  There  is  one  person  indeed  to  whom  I 
should  wish  to  tell  the  secret, — my  sister, 
and  " — 

"  Ah  !  your  sister  Margaret?  She  is  no 
longer  then  in  France?" 

"  No  ;  she  is  living  now  at  the  Chase  ;  and 
I  should  like  to  tell  her, — I  have  no  secrets 
from  her, — I  should  not  like  to  keep  this  from 
her  ; — and  of  course  the  secret  would  be  as 
safe  with  her  as  with  me." 

"  Well,  do  as  you  will.  But  remember 
that  you  will  produce  nothing  but  distress  if 
my  being  alive  here  becomes  known  to  the 
rest  of  the  family." 

Kate  would,  as  may  be  supposed,  have 
bargained  for  including  her  godmother  in 
her  confidence  ;  but  to  licr  great  regret  Lady 
Farnleigh  was  no  longer  in  Sillshire.  On 
the  morrow  of  that  stormy  March  evening, 
which  she  was  spending  at  the  Chase,  she 
had  started  for  her  son's  residence  in  a  dis- 
tant county,  in  order  to  be  present  at  the 
christening  of  his  first  child.  Possibly,  if 
Lady  Farnleigh  had  been  within  reach,  Kate 
might  not  have  insisted  on  telling  the  secret 
to  Margaret  ;  but,  as  it  was,  she  felt  that 
she  must  have  some  sharer  in  it,  and  that  it 
would  be  very  painful  to  her  to  keep  it  from 
her  sister. 

"  I  will  be  careful,"  she  said,  in  reply  to 
her  cousin's  last  words ;  "but  I  must  send 
at  once  for  better  medical  help." 

And  so  saying,  Kate  hurried  down  tc  Mr. 
Mat,  who  was  placidly  smoking  his  pipe  in 
the  old  boat  turned  into  a  summer-house,  and 
begged  him  to  ride  as  fast  as  he  could  to  Sil- 
verton,  and  bring  back  with  him  if  possible 
Dr.  Blakistry. 

Now  Dr.  Blakistry  was  a  very  well-known 
name  in  that  day.  He  was  one  of  the  first 
surgeons  in  England  ;  but  his  delicate  health 
had  two  or  three  years  previously  compelled 
him,  to  the  great  regret  of  a  large  circle  of 
London  friends  and  patients,  to  settle  himself 
in  the  west  of  England. 

"  You  know,  I  suppose,"  said  Julian  Lin- 
disflirn,  when  Kate,  babying  despatched  Mr. 
]Mat  on  his  errand,  hurried  back  to  the  pa- 
tient's bedside,  "  why  I  went  away  from  Sil- 
verton  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  have  never  heard  any  of  those  cir- 
cumstances spoken  of.  I  know  only  that  for 
some  reason  no  mention  was  ever  made  in  the 
family,  of  the  son  of  Dr.  Lindisfarn,  who 
was  supposed  to  have  died  in  America,"  said 
Kate,  sadly. 


120 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


The  wounded  man,  still  moving  his  head 
with  fevered  restlessness  on  the  pillow,  turned 
his  eyes  away  from  her,  and  remained  silent 
for  a  while.  Then  again  looking  up  at  her, 
he  said, — 

"  I  know  right  well  that  this  doctor  you 
have  sent  for  can  only  say  the  same  as  the 
other  said.  I  feel  that  I  am  dying!  There- 
fore, it  will  all  soon  come  to  the  same  thing. 
But  since  you  know  nothing  about  me,  or  my 
story,  cousin,  all  I  need  say  is,  that  if  you 
were  to  save  my  life  by  bringing  this  other 
doctor  to  mc,  every  one  that  bears  the  name 
of  Lindisfarn  would  consider  that  you  had 
done  the  worst  day's  work  you  ever  did  in 
your  life,  and  had  caused  a  misfortune  to  the 
family  that  you  could  never  remedy  !  " 

"  But — surely — it  all  seems  so  shocking 
and  BO  incredible !"  said  Kate,  whose  head 
was  whirling  with  the  strangeness  of  the 
revelation  that  had  been  made  to  her. 

"  Do  not  alarm  yourself!  "  said  Julian,  in 
a  tone  that  seemed,  weak  as  it  was,  to  have 
more  of  irony  than  of  sympathy,  or  any  other 
feeling  in  it ;  "  it  will  all  be  well  very  short- 
ly. Only  remember  that  you  will  not  only 
break  your  pi-omise  to  me,  but  bring  all  kinds 
of  trouble  and  distress  and  heartbreak  upon 
all  connected  with  us, — with  you  and  with 
me,  if  you  reveal  to  any  human  being  the 
fact  of  my  being  alive  and  here." 

"  1  have  promised,"  said  Kate  ;  "  but  it  is 
clear  that  the  first  and  most  pressing  need  is 
to  procure  you  better  medical  help  than  you 
have  yet  had  !  Who  can  say  what  the  result 
may  be  ?  " 

"  You  can  understand,  of  course,  cousin," 
resumed  Julian,  looking  up  at  her,  "  that  if 
I  had  lived,  as,  four-and-twenty  hours  ago,  1 
had  as  good  a  chance  of  doing  as  another, — 
it  would  have  been  right  that  you  and  all 
the  family  should  know  that  I  was  living. 
It  was  my  intention  to  have  found  the  means 
of  making  the  fact  known  to  them  all.  But 
now  it  becomes  necessary  to  let  it  be  known 
that  my  death  will  not  make  that  change  to 
you  which  you  might  naturally  expect  it  to 
do." 

He  ceased  speaking,  and  again  remained 
silent  for  some  minutes  ;  while  Kate,  alto- 
gether mystified  by  what  he  had  been  saying, 
was  doubting  whether  he  were  not  becoming 
light-headed,  and  thinking  whether  she  were 
not  perhaps  doing  m'isehief  by  allowing  him 
to  go  on  talking.  Presently  he  continued, — 
"  I  have  been  thinking  that  it  is  not  ne- 
cessary for  me  now  to  tell  you  circumstances, 
which — have  nothing  pleasant  about  them  in 
the  telling ;  but  if  you  would  kindly  take  a 
small  sealed  packet  from  the  breast-pocket 
of  that  jacket  there,  which  they  took  off  me 
this  morning,  and  keep  it  safely  till  I  am 
dead,  and  then  give  it  to  my  father,  Dr.  Lin- 


disfarn, all  that  is  needful  would  then  be 
known  and  done.  And  you  might  do  as  you 
please  about  letting  them  all  know  that  you 
were  aware  that  the  wounded  smuggler  who 
was  dying  at  Sillmouth  was  Julian  Lindis- 
farn. Will  you  do  this  for  me,  cousin  ?  All 
I  ask  is  that  you  tell  no  human  being  that  I 
am  lying  here,  till  all  is  over  ;  and  that  you 
will  give  that  packet  then,  and  not  till  then, 
to  Dr.  Lindisftirn." 

"  But  if,  as  I  still  trust  in  God,  you  should 
not  die,  cousin?  " 

"  AVell,  everything  is  possible  !  In  that 
case,  then,  you  will  be  almost  equally  soon 
free  from  your  promise  ;  for  if  I  should  not 
die,  I  shall  very  soon  be  away  from  this.  I 
should  in  that  very  improbable  case  reclaim 
my  packet  ;  and  you  would  be  at  liberty  to 
do  just  as  you  thought  fit  about  telling  or 
not  telling  anything  of  our  strange  meeting 
here." 

'  Kate  took  the  packet  as  her  cousin  desired, 
and  again  assuring  him  that  she  would 
faithfully  keep  the  promises  she  had  given 
him,  told  him  that  she  would  then  leave  him, 
as  It  was  not  good  that  he  should  talk  any 
more. 
.  "  Who  is  this  doctor  you  have  sent  for, 
cousin?"  he  asked,  as  she  was  leaving  the 
room . 

I  "A  Dr.  Blakistry, — a  very  famous  sur- 
geon, who  came  to  settle  at  Silverton  two  or 
three  years  ago." 

I  "  Good  ;  there  is  no  chance  then  of  his 
recognizing  me, — though  as  Mrs.  Pendleton 
I  failed  to  do  so,  it  is  little  likely  that  anybody 
would.     Can  he  speak  French?" 

"I  should  think  so.  In  all  probability, 
more  or  less ; — enough  to  communicate  with 
you.  Good-by,  cousin.  God  bless  and 
preserve  you  !  I  cannot  remain  here  till 
after  the  doctor  has  seen  you.  But  I  shall 
take  care  to  have  his  report  sent  to  me  ;  and 
I  shall  be  sure  to  come  and  see  you  to-mor- 
^row." 

"I  expect  no  to-morrow ;  but  I  think  all 
has  been  said  that  needs  to  be  said,  Good- 
!  by,  cousin  !  " 

1  And  so  saying,  he  turned  his  face  to  the 
wall. 

Kate  had  not  long  to  wait,  after  leaving 
the  sick-chamber,  before  Mr.  Mat  returned 
from  his  two-mile  ride  to  Silverton,  saying 
;  that  Dr.  Blakistry  would  not  fail  to  be  there 
within  an  hour  or  an  hour  and  a  half  at  the 
outside. 

I  So  Kate  and  Mr.  Mat  rode  back  to  the 
j  Chase  ;  the  former  much  oppressed  by  the 
I  novel  and  unpleasant  feeling  of  having  a  se- 
cret  to  keep,  and  Mr.  Mat  attributing  Kate's 
silence  and  absence  of  good  spirits  to  the 
painful  nature  of  the  Good  Samaritan's  duty 
on  which  she  had  been  engaged. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 
MAIDEN    MEDITATIONS   NOT  FANCY-FREE. 

Tnolirst  thing  Kate  did  on  reaciiing  licr  own 
room,  when  Bhe  returned  from  her  expedi- 
tion to  Sillmouth,  was  to  place  the  packet, 
which  had  been  intrusted  to  her,  in  her  desk, 
which  slio  always  kept  locked.  Tiic  envelope 
was  not  very  much  larger,  though  somewhat 
tiiicker  and  more  bulkj',  than  an  ordinary 
letter.  The  next  thing  was  to  draw  the  bolt 
of  her  own  door,  and  sit  down  to  meditate  on 
the  strange  adventure  of  the  morning,  and 
on  the  facts  which  it  had  brought  to  her 
knowledge. 

S!ic  had  truly  said  that  she  was  ignorant 
of  the  circumstances  which  bad  led  to  her 
cousin's  quitting  Silverton.  But  she  had  a 
vague  knowledge  that  they  were  of  a  calami- 
tous and  disgraceful  kind.  And  the  shocking 
things  that  he  had  said  respecting  the  feel- 
ings with  which  tidings  of  his  return  would 
be  received  by  his  family  seemed  to  confirm 
but  too  clearly  the  worst  surmises  she  could 
form  on  the  subject. 

Then  came  the  sudden  thought,  was  it  pos- 
sible that  the  stranger  was  not  in  reality  her 
Cousin  Julian  after  all, — that  the  latter  had 
really  died,  as  had  seemed  so  certain,  in  Amer- 
ica, and  that  the  man  she  had  spoken  with 
had,  for  some  motive  of  fraud,  wished  to  per- 
sonate him  ? 

But  a  few  moments'  reflection  led  her  to 
reject  any  such  hypothesis.  The  manner  and 
mode  of  speech,  which  proved  that  he  cer- 
tainly did  not  belong  to  the  class  of  life  in 
which  she  had  found  him  ;  the  correct  knowl- 
edge he  had  possessed  of  persons  and  things 
connected  with  the  family,  and  his  evident 
fear  of  being  recognized  as  the  man  he  pro- 
fessed to  be,  all  contributed  to  confirm  Kate 
in  the  conviction  that  it  was  assuredly  her 
Cousin  Julian  with  whom  she  had  spoken. 
The  letter,  too,  with  which  he  had  intrusted 
her,  would  doubtless  contain  evidence  of  his 
identity. 

But  while  the  considerations  which  led  her 
to  this  conclusion  were  passing  through  her 
mind,  the  thought  of  the  motives  that  might 
induce  any  one  to  attempt  such  an  imperson- 
ation was  also  naturally  presented  to  her  ; 
and  this  led  her  all  of  a  sudden,  as  she  sat 
meditating  somewhat  desultorily  on  all  the 
strange  facts  and  occurrences  of  the  morning, 
to  the  recognition  of  the  bearing  that  Julian's 
life  must  have  upon  the  position  in  the  world 


121 

of  herself  and  her  sister.  It  was  curious  that 
this  had  not  struck  her  while  she  had  stood 
by  the  bedside  of  her  cousin  It  was  not 
that  his  death  would  put  matters  back  again 
in  statu  quo  ;  for  she  had  refused  to  admit  to 
herself  that  his  death  was  certain.  But  not 
even  when  the  wounded  man  liud  spoken 
words  calculated  to  place  the  matter  before 
her  mind,  had  she  sufficiently  put  away  from 
its  front  place  in  her  thoughts  the  immediate 
misery  of  the  sufferer  before  her,  for  her  to  be 
able  to  seize  that  aspect  of  the  circumstances. 

Now  the  trutll  flashed  upon  her,  as  a  pre- 
cipice suddenly  reveals  itself  to  a  man  wan- 
dering about  among  thick  brushwood  on  its 
summit.  It  seems  wonderful  that  his  eye 
should  not  have  caught  sight  of  it  before. 
All  of  a  sudden,  one  step  among  the  bushes 
brings  him  face  to  face  with  it. 

Suddenly,  as  she  sat  thinking  over  all  tliat 
had  happened  that  morning,  the  truth  flashed 
upon  her  that  she  was  no  longer  heiress  to 
any  portion  of  her  father's  estates !  It  was 
a  tremendous  shock.  Kate  Lindisfarn  was 
as  far  as  possible  from  being  a  worldly- 
minded  or  mammon-worshipping  girl.  She 
had  indeed  had  so  little  experience  in  her 
life  of  the  difference  between  poverty  and 
wealth,  that  it  was  hardly  a  matter  of  merit 
in  her  to  be  free  from  an  overweening  regard 
for  the  latter.  Nevertheless,  the  fact  that 
suddenly  reared  itself  up  naked  and  clearly 
defined  in  the  path  of  her  mind  was  a  terrible 
one,  and  gave  her  a  violent  shock. 

Then  in  the  next  instant  rushed  into  her 
mind  also  a  whole  troop  of  thoughts,  which 
changed  the  sudden  pallor  caused  in  her 
cheeks  by  the  first  dismay  to  a  hot,  painful 
flush. 

EUingham ! — It  would  have  been  a  vain 
hypocrisy  for  Kate  to  pretend  to  her  own 
heart  to  doubt  that  Captain  EUingham  loved 
her.  He  had  never  told  her  so.  Quite  true  ! 
And  till  he  should  do  so,  it  was  for  her  to 
seem  unconscious  of  the  fact.  But  it  was 
useless  to  play  this  proper  little  comedy  be- 
fore her  own  heart.  She  knew  that  EUing- 
ham loved  her.  And  some  girls,  perhaps, 
would  have  rejoiced  that  now  "  the  dross 
that  made  a  barrier  between  them  was  re- 
moved," etc.,  etc.,  etc.  But  Kate  was  not 
sufiiciently  romantic  to  view  the  matter  in 
that  light.  She  had  not  the  slightest  sus- 
picion that  Captain  EUingham  had  loved  her, 
and  would  in  due  course  of  time  ask  her  to 


122 

be  his  wife,  for  the  sake  of  her  fortune.  But 
she  was  perfe'itly  well  aware  that  he  was  a 
very  poor  cnan,  in  a  position  in  which  poverty 
is  especially  undesirable  ;  she  understood  per- 
fectly well  that  it  might  be  right  and  prudent 
for  him  to  marry  under  favorable  circum- 
stances as  regarded  fortune,  when  it  might 
be  impossible,  or  at  least  highly  imprudent, 
to  do  so  otherwise.  Above  all,  she  felt  that 
in  any  case,  whatever  her  sentiments  and 
opinions  might  be  on  such  a  point,  if  she  were 
called  on  to  consider  it,  it  was  not  for  her  to 
reflect  on  it  under  the  present  circumstances. 
It  was  for  the  consideration  of  another  person  ; 
and  what  mainly  imported  to  Kate  was  that 
it  should  bo  placed  before  him  for  considera- 
tion. It  was  dreadful  to  her  to  think  that 
as  matters  stood  at  the  present  moment  she 
should  appear  to  him  in  a  position  and  under 
circumstances  that  were  not  her  own.  She 
was  winning  his  heart — she  knew,  at  the  bot- 
tom of  her  own,  that  she  had  already  won  it 
— under  false  colors  and  false  pretences.  She 
felt  as  if  she  were  an  impostor  ;  and  the 
thought,  as  it  passed  through  her  mind,  made 
her  cheek  tingle.  It  was  shocking  to  her 
to  think  that  she  had  during  all  this  time 
been  appearing  to  the  world  as  the  heiress  to 
a  handsome  fortune,  whereas  she  was  in  fact 
nothing  of  the  kind.  And  it  was  far  more 
terrible  to  think  that  she  must  continue  to 
do  so  knowingly  until  she  should  be  liberated 
from  her  promise,  and  set  free  to  tell  the 
truth  by  her  cousin's  departure  from  Sillshire 
— or  by —  It  was  revolting  to  her  to  contem- 
plate release  from  her  position  in  that  other 
direction.  Release  from  the  odious  necessity 
of  secrecy  would  be  afforded  by  her  cousin's 
death.  But  as  regarded  her  own  position 
and  expectations, — what  was  that  which  Ju- 
lian had  said  about  his  death  causing  no 
difference  to  her  and  which  now  recurred 
to  her  mind  in  a  different  train  of  ideas  from 
any  with  which  she  had  connected  it  when 
she  had  first  heard  it  ?  What  was  the  mean- 
ing of  those  words  ?  But  this  was  not  what 
was  pressing  on  her  for  immediate  consider- 
ation. Her  mind  revolted  from  contemplat- 
ing Julian's  death  as  certain,  and  from  cal- 
culating on  the  consequences  that  might  i-esult 
from  it.  She  was  very  far  from  imagining 
or  attempting  to  persuade  herself,  that  a  fall 
from  the  position  of  one  of  the  Lindisfarn 
heiresses  to  that  of  an  almost  undowered  girl 
was  a  trifling  matter,  or  other  than  a  very 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


serious  misfortune  and  calamity.  But  it  was 
most  true  that  as  she  sat  in  the  chair  before 
her  little  drawing-table,  absorbed  in  these 
meditations,  the  idea  of  continuing  to  repre- 


sent herself,  or  suffering  herself  to  be  repre- 
j  sented,  to  her  lover  as  what  she  was  not — for 
j  she  did  not  attempt  to  disguise  from  herself 
that  she  knew  him  to  be  such — was  infinitely 
more  terrible.  This  was  the  matter  that 
j  pressed  for  instant  solution.  What  was  she 
to  do?  What  line  of  conduct  to  pursue? 
Oh  that  she  had  not  bound  herself  to  secrecy  ! 
And  yet  the  truth  of  Julian's  declaration 
that  trouble  and  distress  would  be  caused  to 
everybody  whose  well-being  she  was  bound 
most  to  care  for,  by  a  discovery  of  his  pres- 
ence, was  evident.  What  was  she  to  do?  Oh 
that  Lady  Farnleigh  had  not  been  so  unfor- 
tunately called  away !  Had  she  been  in 
Sillshire,  Kate  would  doubtless  have  stipu- 
lated that  she  should  have  been  made  a  sharer 
in  the  secret.  She  might  have  been  safely 
trusted.  She  would  have  known  how  to  re- 
lease her  goddaughter  from  her  false  position 
as  regarded  the  only  person  whose  continuance 
in  error  respecting  her  real  prospects  for  a 
day  or  two  more  or  less  much  signified  to  her. 
Then  her  mind  reverted  to  the  conversation 
at  the  breakfast-table  on  the  yesterday  morn- 
ing, and  passed  in  review  all  those  passages 
of  it  which  have  been  described  as  having 
been  put  by  in  the  hiding-places  of  her  mem- 
ory for  future  use ; — but  not  for  use  under 
such  circumstances  as  the  present ! — and  the 
tears  gathered  slowly  in  her  eyes  as  she 
thought  of  the  pleasure  they  had  given  her, 
— of  the  upright,  loyal  heart  of  that  brave 
man,  who,  as  Kate's  own  heart  with  in- 
stinctive sympathy  told  her,  could  not  have 
"loved  her  so  much,  loved  he  not  honor 
more," — of  the  hard,  dangerous,  and  thank- 
less nature  of  that  "  duty  "  to  which  he  was 
so  loyally  true,  and  of  the  fond,  sweet  thought 
that  she,  even  she,  was  to  be  the  reward  which 
fate  had  in  store  for  him,  and  the  means  of 
placing  him  above  the  necessity  of  so  ungrate- 
ful a  task  ! 

The  hot  tears  rose  and  gathered  and 
brimmed  over  on  the  peachlike  cheek,  the 
rounded  swell  of  which  no  sorrow  had  ever 
yet  mined.  The  sensation  of  them  on  her 
face  recalled  her  mind  from  its  truant  wan- 
dering to  the  needs  of  the  present.  She 
dashed  away  the  tears  with  an  angry  action 
of  her  hand. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE, 


123 


"  What  a  fool  T  am,*'  she  said  aloud,  "  to 
let  myself  tliiuk  of  things  that  might  have 
been,  when  there  is  so  much  need  of  thinking 
of  tilings  as  they  are  !  " 

Something  must  absolutely  be  done ! — 
something; — but  what?  It  was  absolute 
torture  to  her  to  think  of  herself  as  receiving 
the  homage  and  the  wooing — there  was  no 
use  or  honec-ty  in  mincing  the  plirase ;  it  7vas 
wooing  that  Captain  Ellingham  had  been  of- 
fering to  her  ;  and  she  dared  not  deny  to  her 
own  heart  that  she  knew  it  was  so — of  Cap- 
tain Ellingham,  when  he  was  led  to  suppose 
that  she  was  an  heiress  of  large  fortune,  and 
she  was  in  possession  of  the  truth  that  noth- 
ing of  the  sort  was  the  case.  It  was  torture 
— intolerable  torture  to  her.  But  what  could 
she  do  ? 

Could  she  write  to  Lady  Farnleigh? — not 
to  betray  her  cousin's  secret  in  defiance  of 
her  solemn  promise  ;  that  was  impossible, — 
but  some  sort  of  letter,  couched  in  mysteri- 
ous terms,  which  should  induce  her  to  inti- 
mate to  Captain  Ellingham  that  he  had  bet- 
ter not  think  of  proposing  to  her  (Kate)  ;  for 
that  she  was  not  what  she  seemed  to  be  ! 
And  she  really  took  pen  in  hand  to  essay  the 
composition  of  such  a  letter ;  and  after  two 
or  three  trials,  gave  up  the  attempt  in  despair. 
How  was  it  possible  for  her  to  request  that 
Captain  Ellingham  should  be  warned  that  he 
had  better  not  offer  to  her,  before  he  had  ever 
uttered  a  word  of  the  kind  ?  How  was  she 
to  inform  her  godmother  of  the  fact  that  she 
was  not  her  father's  heir  in  any  manner  that 
should  appear  sane,  and  should  not  at  once 
bring  upon  her  such  an  inquiry  and  exami- 
nation as  would  make  the  keeping  of  her  se- 
cret impossible? 

Had  her  godmother  been  there  present,  it 
might  have  been  possible — it  seemed  to  Kate 
— so  to  speak  to  her  as  to  obtain  her  assist- 
ance, without  divulging  the  secret  she  was 
bound  to  keep.  But  it  was  impossible  to  do 
this  by  letter. 

And  then  she  had — and  had  had  ever  since 
the  tete-a-tete  of  the  breakfast-table — a  lurk- 
ing consciousness  that  this  offer  from  Captain 
Ellingham,  which  she  would  now  give  worlds 
to  stave  off,  was  not  very  far  away.  It  was 
a  lurking,  vague,  unavowed  consciousness, 
which  would  never  have   shaped   itself  into 


thrown  fiir  and  wide  over  the  landscape  by 
the  lambent  summer  lightning,  liad  it  not 
been  condensed  into  fear  by  the  new  circum- 
stances of  her  life.  But  now,  should  the  of- 
fer come, — it  was  agony  to  think  of  it ! — wliat 
should  she  do  ?  W  hat  she  must  do  was  clear, 
so  far.  She  must  refuse — but  without  as- 
signing any  reason — any  motive!  It  was 
very  cruel — very  dreadful — and  after  all  that 
had  come  and  gone  !  And  thereupon  a  crowd 
of  little  minute  consciousnesses  came  flocking 
into  her  mind, — memories  oflooks  and  glances, 
emphasized  words  charged  with  an  amount 
of  meaning  accurately  gauged  and  weighed 
by  the  self-registering  and  miraculously  del- 
icate erosometer  of  a  young  girPs  fresh  heart, 
pressings  of  the  hand  so  slight  and  shy  that 
they  did  their  work  rather  by  electric  than 
by  dynamic  force,  yet  did  it  surely,  and  left 
marks  on  the  memory  never  more  to  be  can- 
celled,— all  these  stored  treasures,  each  la- 
belled with  its  date  as  accurately  as  Misa 
Immy  marked  her  eggs,  came  thronging  into 
her  mind  from  their  separate  memory  cells. 
They  had  so  often  been  summoned  forth  in 
Kate's  hours  of  reverie  an«l  self-communion, 
that  it  was  natural  for  them  to  come  as  usual 
now.  But  now  they  were  not  wanted.  They 
might  go  back — poor  faded  treasures! — to 
their  hiding-places  ;  treasures  ever,  and  not 
to  be  destroyed,  save  with  consciousness  it- 
self; but  no  more,  never  more  to  be  reviewed 
on  memory's  gay  and  gala  days, — relics  only, 
sacred  though  sad,  to  be  brought  forth  in 
seasons  of  the  heart's  fast-days  and  humilia- 
tions. 

And  again,  as  she  forcibly  thrust  back  these 
remembrances  into  the  deepest  recesses  of  her 
mind,  the  tears  overflowed  upon  her  cheeks  ; 
and  a^-ain  she  angrily  shook  them  from  her, 
and  accused  them  of  interfering  with  the  ac- 
tive measures  it  behooved  her  to  take.  Yet, 
what  active  measures?  Again,  what — what 
was  she  to  do? 

And  Margaret  too  ?  Yes  !  How  was  that 
to  be  done  ?  There  was  ^largaret  to  be  talked 
to.  How  glad  Kate  was  that  she  had  stipu- 
lated that  her  sister  should  be  told  ;  she  had 
done  so  at  the  moment  merely  from  the  feel- 
in"-  that  she  liked  to  have  no  secrets  from  her 
sister,  and  from  the  desire  to  have  some  one  to 
help  her  in  sustaining  the  weight  of  it.     The 


definite  form  before  her  mind,  but  would  only  |  necessity  that  Margaret  also  should  be  made 
have  flung  a  ruse-colored  light  of  unquestioned  I  aware  of  what  her  true  position  was,  with  a 
happiness  over  her  life,  like  the  golden  glory  I  view   to   properly    regulating    her    conduct 


124 

towivrd  others  had  not  tlien  occurred  to  her. 
Bat  now  it  was  but  too  clear  to  her,  when 
she  turned  her  mind  to  that  part  of  the  sea 
of  perplexities  which  surrounded  her,  that 
Margaret  was  in  the  same  difiBculty  with  re- 
gard to  Falconer  that  she  was  in  regard  to 
Ellingham.  Kate  had  seen,  with  no  reason 
or  inclination  to  regret  or  object  to  it,  that 
Falconer  had  been  very  evidently  paying  as- 
siduous court  to  her  sister,  and  that  Marga- 
ret had  been  very  abundantly  willing  to  ac- 
cept as  much  of  his  homage  as  he  chose  to 
bring  to  her  shrine.  Kate  could  not  doubt 
that  Frederick  Falconer  purposed  making 
Margaret  his  wife.  In  his  case,  it  is  true, 
there  could  not  be  the  same  difficulty  in  mar- 
rying an  undowered  wife  as  in  the  case  of 
Ellingham.  Frederick  Falconer  would  be 
abundantly  rich  enough  to  marry  a  girl  with- 
out a  fortune,  if  he  chose  to  do  so.  But, 
somehow  or  other,  though  she  had  never  put 
into  tangible  form  any  ideas  in  her  mind 
upon  the  subject,  she  felt  as  if  she  had  had  a 
revelation  on  the  point,  that  Freddy  Falconer 
would  not  so  choose.  She  felt  far  more  cer- 
tain of  it  in  his  case  than  she  did  in  that 
other,  which  she  would  not  permit  herself  to 
scrutinize  more  narrowly.  And  she  did  not 
feel  any  necessity  for  laying  heavy  blame  on 
Frederick  on  that  account.  Doubtless  his 
father  would  wish  him  to  increase  his  wealth 
by  marriage.  But  the  conviction  that  it 
would  not  suit  Mr.  Frederick  Falconer  to 
marry  a  girl  without  a  penny,  that  he  would 
never  have  sought  her  sister's  love,  had  he 
supposed  her  to  have  been  such,  and  that  he 
would  consider  himself  to  have  been  cruelly 
deluded, — or  at  all  events,  a  most  unfortunate 
victim  of  error, — if  he  were  to  propose  to  her 
under  such  circumstances, — all  these  consid- 
erations made  her  feel  very  acutely  the  abso- 
lute necessity  of  in  some  way  preventing  him 
as  well  as  Ellingham  from  proceeding  in  the 
path  in  which  both  of  them  were  so  evidently 
advancing  under  erroneous  impressions. 

Frederick  had  been  up  at  the  Chase  that 
day,  as  Kate  knew.  She  and  Mr.  Mat  had 
met  him  riding  down  the  hill  near  the  ivy 
bridge  over  the  Lindisfarn  Brook,  as  they 
were  returning  from  Sillmouth.  God  grant 
that  notiiing  decisive  had  passed  between 
him  and  Margai-et  that  day  !  Kate  thought 
that  nothing  could  have  happened,  or  Margaret 
would  doubtless  have  rushed  into  her  room  in- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


stantly  on  her  return  to  tell  her  of  it.  But 
then  Kate  had  only  known  her  sister  for  a 
few  months.  And  it  may  be  that  her  security 
based  on  this  presumption  was  not  founded 
on  a  rock. 

Kate  looked  at  her  watch,  and  saw  that 
her  sad  and  painful  musings  had  lasted  more 
than  two  hours.  It  was  time  to  dress  for 
dinner ;  and  IMargaret  would  doubtless  be 
coming  up-stairs  in  a  minute,  if  she  were  not 
already  in  her  room.  But  there  was  no  time 
now  for  the  conversation  that  must  take  place 
between  them,  and  which  would  necessa- 
rily be  a  lengthy  one.  It  was  best  to  defer 
it  till  they  should  again  be  alone  together 
before  going  to  bed.  It  was  painful  to  Kate 
to  have  to  sit  with  her  sister  through  the 
evening  with  the  consciousness  of  the  blow  it 
would  be  her  duty  to  inflict  on  Margaret,  all 
unconscious  the  while  of  the  evil  coming 
upon  her.  She  had  a  sort  of  unreasoned  and 
unavowed,  but  none  the  less  irresistible,  con- 
viction ,  moreover,  that  the  news  of  the  change 
in  her  position  would  be  a  more  dreadful  and 
stunning  blow  to  Margaret  than  it  had  beejn 
to  herself;  and  the  necessity  of  inflicting  t>is 
blow  was  not  the  least  part  of  the  more  in- 
stant and  immediate  cares  and  sorrows  that 
were  pi'essing  upon  her. 

She  set  about  the  work  of  dressing  with 
that  languid  distaste  for  the  exertion  which 
petty  cares  of  the  kind  are  apt  to  produce  in 
those  who  are  suffering  from  the  pressure  of 
serious  troubles.  Margaret  came  into  her 
room  before  she  was  quite  ready  to  go  down, 
charmingly  dressed  as  usual, — for  she  had  be- 
come quite  reconciled  to  the  pleasing  toil  of 
making  habitually  an  evening  toilet, — and  evi- 
dently in  high  spirits.  Kate  was  sure  that 
her  interview  with  Fred  Falconer  had  been  a 
pleasant  one,  at  all  events  ;  for  when  by 
chance  there  were  any  thorns  among  Marga- 
ret's roses,  however  few  or  small  they  might 
be,  she  was  apt  to  give  unmistakable  evidence 
of  having  suffered  from  them  for  some  time 
after  wai'd. 

"  What !  not  ready,  Kate?  And  you  are 
always  lecturing  me  for  being  behindhand  ! 
Why,  it  is  two  hours  or  more  since  you  eame 
home.  What  have  you  been  about  ?  And 
you  seem  to  be  all  in  the  dumps  too." 

"  My  morning's  work  at  Sillmouth  Avas  not 
a  pleasant  one,  you  know,"  said  Kate,  blush- 
ing with  a  sensation  quite  new  to  her,  as  the 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


125 


coneciousnces  of  playing  the  hypocrite  with 
her  sister,  though  only  for  a  few  hours, 
passed  over  her  mind. 

"  And  I  am  sure  I  don't  see  why  you 
should  meddle  with  such  disagreeable  people. 
I  own,  for  my  part,  I  do  not  think  it  a  proper 
sort  of  thing  at  all.  And  it  only  shows  what 
poor  dear  Madame  de  Renneville  always  used 
to  say, — that  one  never  can  step,  were  it  only 
a  hair's  breadth,  out  of  one's  own  proper 
sphere,  without  being  punished  for  the  indis- 
cretion in  some  way  or  other." 

"  But  perhaps  it  is  not  always  quite  easy 
to  know  what  is  one's  proper  sphere,  and 
what  are  the  limits  of  it,"  said  Kate,  with  a 
sigh,  as  she  once  again  put  a  wet  towel  to 
her  eyes,  before  going  down-stairs.  "  Come, 
dear,  I  am  ready  now,"  she  added.  "  Let 
us  go  down.  I  must  tell  you  all  about  my 
morning's  adventure  before  we  go  to  bed  to- 
night." 

And  then,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life, 
Kate  had  to  pass  the  evening  in  the  family 
circle  with  the  heavy  sense  of  a  secret  to  be 
kept  from  all  those  dear  and  familiar  friends, 
who  had  no  secrets  from  her,  with  whose 
hearts  she  had  ever  had  all  in  common.  And 
the  weight  was  very  grievous  to  her. 

CHAPTER   XXIII. 
SILISHIRE  versus  PARIS. 

At  last  the  long  evening  wore  itself  to  its 
close  ;  and  the  two  Lindisfarn  lasses  went  up 
to  their  adjoining  rooms  together. 

"Now,  then,  Margaret,"  said  Kate,  as 
they  reached  the  top  of  the  stairs  together  ; 
"I  must  tell  you  all  about  my  ride  to  Sill- 
mouth  this  morning  ;  I  should  have  told  you 
before,  dear  sissy,  if  there  had  been  any  op- 
portunity." 

"  AVhy  !  is  there  anything  to  tell  that  sig- 
nifies '?  "  returned  Margaret,  opening  her 
great  handsome  eyes  in  astonishment. 

"  Yes,  there  is  a  good  deal  to  tell,"  said 
Kate,  with  a  sigh;  "come  into  my  room 
with  me,  darling,  or  let  me  come  into  yours  ;  \ 
for  we  must  have  a  long  talk  together."  I 

"  Not  very  long,  I  hope,  for  I  am  very  ! 
sleepy,"  said  Margaret,  yawning;  "but' 
how  strange  you  look,  Kate!  What  is  it? 
Is  anything  the  matter"?  " 

"  You  need  not  come  up  till  we  ring,  Sim- 
mons," said  Kate,  as  Margaret  followed  her 
into  her  room. 

"  You  can  go  into  my  room,  Simmons,  and 


}  put  my  things  into  my  drawers  the  while ; 
I  for  they  are  all  over  the  room.  I  could  not 
I  find  the  dress  I  wanted  for  dinner." 
I  Simmons  went  as  directed  to  repair  the 
disorder  in  her  wardrobe  made  by  Miss  Mar- 
:  garet,  who  was,  as  that  experienced  lady's- 
maid  declared,  a  regular  untidy  one;  and 
Kate,  before  sitting  down  in  the  same  chair 
in  front  of  her  little  drawing-table,  which 
she  had  sat  in  during  her  two  hours  of  med- 
itation before  dinner,  shut  the  door  of  com- 
j  munication  between  the  two  rooms  ;  while 
Margaret,  much  wondering  what  was  com- 
1  ing,  and  fearing  a  preachment  on  sundry 
!  small  matters  of  which  she  was  conscious, 
[  and  which  she  surmised  might  not  be  alto- 
!  gether  to  her  sister's  liking,  installed  herself 
in  the  large  chair  that  stood  before  Kate's 
toilet-table. 

"  Miss  Immy  has  been  telling  tales,  I  sup- 
pose !  "  thought  she  to  herself.  "  Yv  ho 
could  have  guessed  that  the  old  thing  was 
spying  all  the  time  that  she  seemed  fast 
asleep?  " 

"  You  know  that  Winny  begged  me  to  go 
over  to  her  at  Sillmouth  to  see  a  poor  man 
who  had  been  wounded  in  a  fray  with  the 
coast-guard  men,  and  who  was  lying  in  dan- 
ger of  death  in  her  cottage?  "  began  Kate. 

"  Yes,  I  know.  And  I  must  say  that  in 
your  place,  Kate,  I  should  not  have  dreamed 
of  doing  anything  of  the  sorti,"  said  Marga- 
ret, thinking  it  wise,  in  case  Kate  meditated 
a  preachment,  to  be  beforehand  in  occupying 
the  attacking  ground. 

"I  think,  dearest,  that  you  would  have 
done  so  in  my  place.  You  cannot  feel,  you 
know,  towards  Winny  Pendleton  as  I  do  ; 
and  therefore  you  cannot  tell  how  strongly  I 
felt  called  upon  to  do  as  she  wished.  I  as- 
sure you,  it  was  a  very  unpleasant  task; 
though  I  little  thought,  when  I  started  on  the 
errand,  what  a  surprise  was  awaiting  me  !  " 
"  What  was  it?  "  asked  Margaret,  while 
her  now  thoroughly  awakened  curiosity  ex- 
pressed itself  in  her  widely  opened  eyes. 

"  Do  you  ever  remember  to  have  heard, 
Margaret,  that  our  uncle.  Dr.  Lindisfarn, 
once  had  a  son?  "  asked  Kate. 

"  No,  never.  I  thought  he  never  had  had 
any  children,"  replied  Margaret,  with  in- 
creasing astonishment. 

"  You  might  very  well  never  have  heard 
of  it ;  but  our  uncle  had  a  son,  called  Julian. 
I  can  remember  seeing  him  when  a  little  girl. 


X2Q 

He  was  then  a  grown-up  young  man.  All 
of  a  sudden  he  left  Silverton,  and  we  saw  no 
moi'e  of  him.  He  got  into  ti-ouble  of  some 
sort.  1  believe  he  did  something  wrong.  I 
do  not  know  what  the  story  was  :  but  I  know 
there  was  great  grief  and  sorrow  about  it.  I 
believe  it  half  broke  poor  Aunt  Sempronia's 
heart  But  there  was  a  great  mystery  on 
the  subject ;  and  after  he  went  away,  nobody 
ever  spoke  of  him  ;  and  it  was  as  if  he  were 
dead.  After  a  time,  there  came  news  that  he 
was  dead,  really.  He  was  killed,  it  was  said, 
by  the  Red  Indians  in  America.  People  de- 
clared that  they  saw  him  killed,  and  from 
that  time,  till  now,  I  have  never  heard  his 
name  mentioned.  But,  Margaret,  darling," 
continued  Kate,  taking  her  sister's  hand  in 
hers,  and  looking  earnestly  into  her  face, 
"the  wounded  man,  whom  I  was  called  to 
see  at  Sillmouth  this  morning,  was  our  Cousin 
Julian  !•" 

"You  don't  say  so!"  said  Margaret; 
"  how  very  odd  !  " 

"  It  was  a  strange  chance,  indeed  ! — the 
stranger  that  it  was  a  chance,"  replied  Kate  ; 
"  for  nobody  knew,  and  nobody  knows  now 
who  he  is;  and  he  had  nothing  to  do  with 
sending  for  me.  But  he  happened  to  hear 
Winny  call  me  by  my  name,  and  then  he  dis- 
covered himself  to  me." 

"  And  it  was  all  untrue,  then,  about  his 
being  killed  in  America?  "  said  Margaret. 

"  It  was  a  mistake.  He  was  nearly  killed, 
but  not  quite;  and  he  recovered.  He  did 
not  tell  me  the  particulars  of  the  story." 

"  And  now  he  is  come  back  to  his  father  ! 
But  how  did  he  chance  to  be  wounded  with 
the  smugglers?"  asked  Margaret,  whose 
curiosity,  excited  by  the  strangeness  of  the 
story,  did  not  seem  to  be  mixed  with  any 
other  emotion. 

"He  had  joined  the  smugglers  in  their 
venture  as  a  means  of  coming  over  here  from 
France  secretly  ;  but  he  was  not  coming  to 
his  father ;  he  does  not  wish  anybody  to 
know  that  he  is  here  ;  and  from  the  manner 
in  which  he  spoke,  I  fear  that  much  trouble 
and  distress  would  come  of  its  being  discov- 
ered that  he  is  in  the  neighborhood." 

"  Why  did  he  tell  you  who  he  was, 
then  ?"  asked  Margaret. 

"  Partly,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  as  far  as  I 
could  understand  him,  because,  though  he 
was  very  anxious  that  it  should  not  be  knoAvn 
that  he  was  in  Sillshire.  as  long  as  he  lived, 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


he  wished  that  it  should  be  known  who  ho 
was  after  his  death  ;  and  partly,  because  he 
felt  how  needful  it  is  that  we  should  be  made 
aware  that  he  was  not  killed  by  the  Indians, 
as  was  supposed.  I  made  a  condition  with 
him,  that  I  should  tell  you  ;  but  I  promised, 
faithfully  to  tell  nobody  else,  and  promised 
for  you,  that  you  would  keep  the  secret 
also." 

"  Why  is  it  so  needful  for  us  to  know  that 
he  was  not  killed  ?  If  he  does  not  mean  to 
eouie  back  to  his  father,  why  could  he  want 
any  of  us  to  know  tliat  he  is  alive  ?  I  do 
not  see  any  good  in  our  knowing  it,"  said 
Margaret,  raising  her  eyebrows  with  a  little 
shrug. 

Kate's  heart  failed  her  as  she  answered, 

"  Don't  you  see,  dear  Margaret,  the  differ- 
ence it  makes  to  you  and  me?  Don't  you 
perceive  that  if  our  Cousin  Julian  is  alive, 
neither  you  nor  I  are  heirs  to  our  father's 
property?  " 

Margaret's  habitual  paleness  became  livid- 
ness  as  she  said,  "-Nonsense,  Kate  !  It  can't 
be  true  !  Do  you  believe  that  people's  for- 
tunes can  go  backwards  and  forwards  in  that 
way?  If  that  were  the  case,  how  could  any 
man  know  what  a  girl's  fortune  was?  Be- 
sides, the  properfy  belongs  to  our  father. 
Do  you  suppose  that  anything  can  touch  our 
dot?'' 

"Dearest  Margaret,  I  fear  it  is  but  too 
clear  that  if  uncle  has  a  son,  the  daughters 
of  my  father  do  not  inherit  the  property. 
The  lands  of  Lindisf\xrn  go  to  the  male  heirs 
of  my  grandfather." 

"  And  what,  then,  do  we  inherit  ?  What 
18  ouv  dot  to  come  from?"  asked  Margaret, 
while  a  dreadful  spasm  was  clutching  her 
heart  with  an  icy  grip. 

"Alas!  sister  dear,  if  there  is  a  male 
heir  to  the  property,  we  have  no  inheritance. 
There  is  no  source  from  which  any  dower  for 
us,  as  it  is  called  in  English,  can  come." 

"  It  is  too  horrible  to  be  true,"  said  Mar- 
garet, looking  and  feeling  aB  if  she  must  fall 
from  her  chair.  "  I  cannot  believe  it.  It  is 
too  wicked  !  ' ' 

"  But,  dearest  Margaret,  ivho  is  wicked? 
Nobody  has  done  anything  they  ought  not  to 
have  done.  According  to  the  law,  Uncle 
Theophilus  having  a  son  comes  to  the  same 
thing  as  if  papa  had  a  son.  That  is  all. 
Everybody  knows  that  if  we  had  a  brother, 
we  should  not  be  heiresses  to  the  estate." 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


127 


"  It  is  hon-iI)ly  wicked  !  "  said  Margaret, 
as  the  tears  gathered  in  her  eyes  ;  "  the  law 
is  abominably  wicked, — the  law  of  this  vile, 
barbarous  country  !  " 

"  Oh,  Margaret,  Margaret !  don't  say  such 
shocking  words  !  Think  that  k  is  England, 
Sillsliire,  our  own  native  land !  "  remon- 
strated Kate,  who  was  almost  as  much  scan- 
dalized as  if  her  sister  had  spoken  of  their 
own  father  in  similar  terms. 

"  I  hate  England  !  It  is  a  vile,  horrid  coun- 
try to  make  such  wicked  laws  ;  I  don't  be- 
lieve it  can  be  true!  "  said  Margaret,  now 
fairly  sobbing,  and  with  the  inconsistency  of 
passion. 

"  It  is  very  dreadful  to  me  to  hear  you 
speak  so,  Margaret !  But  I  don't  wonder  at 
your  feeling  it  hard.  It  eshard  ;  very  hard, 
because  of  the  disappointment  and  the  false 
expectation.  But  that  is  not  the  fault  of  the 
law,  nor  of  England." 

"It  is  the  fault  of  this  bad  and  wicked 
man,  who  was  obliged  to  go  away,  and  who 
pretended  he  was  dead,  and  now  comes  back 
to  rob  us  of  our  father's  property." 

"  It  is  not  his  fault  that  we  are  not  heir- 
esses ;  nor  is  it  his  fault,  though  it  arises  out 
of  his  fault,  that  we  have  been  led  into  er- 
ror," said  clear-headed,  direct-minded  Kate. 
"  Poor  Julian  did  not,  as  you  say,  Marga- 
ret, pretend  to  be  dead.  If  fault  there  were 
in  the  matter,  it  was  in  those  who  believed 
his  death  on  insufficient  grounds." 

"  You  have  no  feeling,  Kate, — no  feeling 
at  all,*'  sobbed  Margaret,  "  to  talk  in  such 
a  way  !  I  say  it  is  wicked,  horribly  wicked 
that  poor  girls  should  be  robbed  of  their  own 
father's  fortune  in  such  a  way  !  And  I  say 
it  is  a  vile,  hateful  country,  where  such 
things  can  be  done.  And  I  love  France  a 
thousand  times  better,  and  always  did,  and 
always  sliall, — a  thousand,  tJKjusand  times  ! 
a  thousand,  thousand  times,  I  do !  I  hate 
England,  and  all  the  people  in  it!"  cried 
Margaret,  in  the  impotence  of  her  rage.  She 
was  suffering  pain  ;  and  the  first  impulse  of 
some  natures,  when  they  suffer,  is  to  inflict, 
if  it  be  within  their  power,  pain  on  others, 
Margaret  did  feel  just  then  that  she  hated 
England  ;  but  the  passionate  assertion  of  it 
was  prompted  by  the  bad  instinct  that  would 
fain  avenge  on  Kate  the  pain  she  was  suffer- 
ing. 

"  Dear  sister,"  said  Kate,  taking  her 
Land,  and  looking  into  her  face  witli  the  ten- 


derest  sympatliy,  '^  I  do  feel  for  you  !  It  is 
very,  very  hard  to  bear  !  You  will  not  speak 
as  you  do  now,  when  you  have  time  for  re- 
flection." 

"  Yes,  I  shall  !  I  shall  always  speak  so  ! 
It  is  right  to  speak  so  !  It  is  wicked.  And 
I  hate  everything  that  is  wicked  !  And  so 
would  you,  too,  if  you  were  good  yourself. 
Didn't  I  tell  you  that  no  good  could  come  of 
your  going  to  see  smugglers  and  vulgar  peo- 
ple? And  now  see  what  has  come  of  it !  " 
said  ]\Iargaret,  in  a  bitterly  reproaclil'ul  tone. 

"  Nay,  sister  dear  !  what  has  come  of  my 
visit  to  Sillmouth  is  not  that  we  are  no  longer 
heiresses  of  the  Lindisfarn  property,  but  only 
that  we  know  the  fact  that  such  is  the  case. 
And  that  is  evidently  an  advantage, — and 
perhaps  a  very  great  blessing !  Don't  you 
see,  Margaret,  that  it  is  so?"  continued 
Kate,  after  a  pause,  looking  earnestly  into 
her  sister's  face. 

"A  blessing  to  know  this  horrible  misfor- 
tune? Are  you  mad,  Kate,  or  are  you  only 
mocking  me?  "  said  Margaret,  casting  a  pas- 
sionately reproachful  glance  at  her  sister 
from  amid  iier  tears. 

"  Notmad,  dear  Margaret.  Butjust  think 
a  little  what  the  consequences  of  not  know- 
ing our  position  with  regard  to  our  expecta- 
tions of  fortune  might  be  !  It  is  bad  enough, 
— very,  very  grievous  and  distressing,  that 
others  should  not  be  equally  well  aware  of  it. 
And  I  trust  that  erelong  there  may  be  no  ne- 
cessity for  further  concealment  on  the  subject. 
But  it  miglit  be  very  much  worse,  if  we  were 
ourselves  ignorant  of  the  fact.  Don't  you 
see  this? "' 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean!  I  only 
know  that  I  have  been  robbed  and  wronged  and 
shamefully,  most  shamefully  treated !  Poor 
Madame  do  Pvenueville  !  IIow  little  did  she 
think  what  fate  she  was  sending  me  to  in 
England  !  " 

It  was  difficult  for  Kate,  amid  her  own 
distress,  and  in  her  anxiety,  to  lead  her  sister 
to  contemplate  the  subject  of  their  disinherit- 
ance with  reference  to  the  circumstances  that 
had  pushed  themselves  into  the  foregi'ound  in 
her  own  mind, — it  was  difficult  for  her  to 
listen  with  equanimity  to  speculations  as  to 
what  Madame  de  Renneville  might  have 
thought  about  the  matter.  She  strove,  how- 
ever, to  do  so  ;  having,  at  all  costs,  to  bring 
Margaret  to  the  consideration  of  the  matter 
from  that  point  of  view  whicli  appeared  to 


128 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


her  the  most  urgently  to  require  immediate 
attention.  She  felt  considerable  difficulty  in 
doing  this.  A  tingling  blush  on  her  cheek 
had  been  simultaneous  with  th  e  first  birth  in 
her  own  pure,  loyal,  and  uncompromisingly 
honest  mind,  of  the  thought  that  it  behooved 
her  to  guard  a  man,  who  had  never  spoken 
to  her  of  love,  from  the  danger  of  doing  so 
under  a  false  impression  of  her  position. 
Maidenly  feeling  had  produced  the  blush,  and 
had  caused  the  pain  which  had  accompanied  it. 
But  it  had  not  blinded  her  to  the  straight- 
forward, honest  duty  of  preventing  a  step 
which  in  her  heart  she  knew  to  be  imminent, 
and  which  she  knew  was  about  to  be  taken 
by  one  under  a  delusion.  She  had  suffered  no 
sentimental  mock-modesty  to  stand  in  the 
way  of  her  being  honest  and  true  for  her- 
self ;  and  now  she  had  to  be  equally  frank  in 
the  case  of  her  sister.  But  she  did  not  the 
less  feel  the  difficulty.  And  Margaret's  ap- 
parent obtuseness  to  any  idea  of  the  sort 
made  this  difficulty  greater  to  her.  It  seemed 
as  if  she  must  have  been  over-bold  to  be  struck 
at  once  by  the  possibility  of  a  danger,  which 
did  not  apparently  suggest  itself  to  the  more 
delicately  unconscious  mind  of  her  sister. 
Yet  it  was  certain  to  her  that  Margaret  had 
fully  as  much  reason  to  apprehend  such  a 
misfortune  as  she  had.  She  was  perfectly 
well  aware  that  it  was  quite  as  likely  that 
Margaret  might  any  day  receive  an  offer 
from  Falconer  as  she  herself  from  Ellingham. 
Could  it  be  that  Margaret  was  wholly  un- 
conscious of  this?  Was  it  necessary  for  her 
to  open  her  sister's  eyes  to  the  fact  as  well 
as  suggest  to  her  that  the  fact  constituted, 
under  the  circumstances,  a  danger,  which  it 
was  her  duty  to  guard  against? 

"  But  the  worst  of  the  matter,  sissy  dear," 
she  began,  again  taking  the  hand  which 
Margaret  in  her  petulant  outburst  of  temper 
had  snatched  from  her, — "  the  worst  of  the 
matter,  by  far,  is  that  this  unfortunate  change 
in  our  positions  may — you  know,  darling — 
may  have  an  influence  on  others  as  well  as 
ourselves." 

Margaret  turned  her  eyes  sharply  on  her 
sister's  face  with  a  look  of  shrewd  and  keen 
observation  for  an  instant  before  she  replied. 

"  You  mean  that  girls  without  a  dot  have 
no  chance  of  marrying  creditably  !  Of  course 
I  know  that !  There  was  no  need  of  casting 
that  in  my  teeth.  I  know  what  you  are 
thinking  of,  Kate.     You  have  Lady  Farn- 


leigh's  six  thousand  pounds  to  fall  back  on. 
It  is  at  least  something.  I  have  nothing ! 
There  is  no  need  to  remind  me  of  it." 

"  Oh,  Margaret,  Margaret !  "  cried  Kate, 
inexpressibly  shocked,  and  in  the  voice  of 
one  who  is  assailed  by  a  sudden  spasm  of 
bodily  pain,  and  the  silently  rising  tears  filled 
her  eyes  as  she  looked  into  her  sister's  face 
with  a  piteous  expression  of  remonstrance 
against  the  cruelty  of  this  speech. 

"  Well,  you  know,  that  must  make  a 
great  difference.  It  would  be  affectation  to 
pretend  to  forget  it,"  rejoined  ^largaret, 
feeling  some  little  compunction  for  the  bru- 
tality of  the  words  which  had  given  Kate 
such  a  shai-p  pang.  "  But,  at  all  events," 
she  continued,  "  we  have  the  advantage  of  a 
good  appearance  for  the  present.  The  main 
point  is  when  girls  have  no  fortune,  to  keep 
the  fact  from  being  generally  known,  as  far 
as  possible.  And  in  this  respect,  at  least, 
our  position  is  a  favorable  one.  For  it  does 
not  seem  to  enter  into  the  plans  of  this  horri- 
ble cousin  to  make  his  existence  known  for 
the  present,  at  any  rate.  So  that  we  shall 
at  all  events  have  a  respite,  and  —  who 
knows ' ' — 

Kate  gazed  at  her  sister  as  she  thus  spoke, 
and  after  she  had  finished,  with  absolutely 
speechless  astonishment,  which  sank  grad- 
ually to  a  persuasion  that  there  was  some  mis- 
understanding between  them  somehow. 

"Don't  you  understand  me?  "said  Mar- 
garet, with  petulant  impatience,  in  answer 
to  her  sister's  look. 

"  1  think,  Margaret,  we  don't  understand 
each  other,"  replied  Kate,  whose  brain  felt 
confused  by  a  whole  host  of  conflicting 
thoughts  and  feelings.  "  I  cannot  suppose 
that  you  could  wish  that  any  man  should  " — 
here  the  tingling  blush  came  again  into  Kate's 
cheek — "should  ask  you  to  be  his  wife," 
Kate' went  on  more  boldly,  her  steel-true  hon- 
esty of  purpose  coming  to  her  aid,  "  under 
the  impression  that  your  position  as  regards 
fortune  and  expectations  was  different  fi-om 
what  it  really  is.  You  would  wish,  undoubt- 
edly, to  prevent  such  an  error  by  every  pos- 
sible means  in  your  power.  You  would  wish 
to  save  him  ^-om  the  unfair  and  very  embar- 
rassing necessity  of  declaring  himself  unable 
to  carry  out  an  intention  formed  under  dif- 
ferent circumstances,  and  yet  more  to  save 
yourself  from  the  possibility  of  the  horrible 
suspicion  that  you  sought   to   incite  a  pro- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


posal  by  letting  it  be  supposed  that  you  had 
advantages  to  offer  which  you  knew  that  you 
had  not.  Think  of  the  horror  of  such  a  po- 
sition, Margaret  !  "  said  Kate,  as  the  burning 
blood  flushed  afresh  all  over  her  neck  and 
face  and  forehead. 

"  Indeed,  Kate,"  returned  her  sister,  "  I 
think  we  do  misunderstand  each  other.  We 
took  at  all  these  questions  from  such  different 
points  of  view.  I  confess  that  to  my  mind 
and  with  the  principles  in  which  I  have  beeu 
brought  up,  there  is  a  degree  of  indelicacy 
in  a  girl  thus  setting  herself  to  weigh  and 
estimate  the  motives  that  may  lead  a  gentle- 
man to  pay  his  addresses  to  her.  You  know 
my  sister,  that  the  Englisli  are  considered  to 
be  a  nation  of  shopkeepers,  and  to  look  at 
everything  with  a  trading  eye.  And  in  what 
you  say  I  see  the  truth  of  the  reproach.  In 
France  a  demoiselle  bien  elevee  never  meddles 
with  any  of  these  considerations.  All  such 
matters  are  arranged  by  her  parents  ;  and  it 
is  surely  more  proper  and  more  delicate  to 
leave  it  to  them.  And  I  must  own  that  the 
insular  shopkeeping  spirit,  which  shows  it- 
self in  calculations  beforehand  as  to  how 
much  of  the  love  of  a  fiitur  may  have  been 
excited  by  your  fortune,  and  how  much  by 
your  own  beaux  yeux,  is  to  my  feeling  revolt- 
ing." 

"I  don't  think,  Margaret,"  said  Kate, 
after  a  minute's  thoughtful  pause,  and  feel- 
ing a  little  puzzled  and  much  pained,  "  that 
I  quite  follow  your  ideas.  For  my  own  part, 
I  don't  so  much  care  whether  the  spirit  in 
which  we  have  to  act  in  this  matter  is  a  shop- 
keeping  spirit  or  not,  so  that  it  be  a  straight- 
forward, honest  one.  I  had  much  rather — 
God  knows  how  much  rather  ! — avoid,  as  far 
as  one  can,  speculating  on  the  supposed  in- 
tentions of  tliis  or  that  man  in  a  question  of 
this  sort,  and  very  much  more  abstain  from 
taking  any  active  step  inconsequence  of  such 
suppositions.  The  course  which  a  girl  should 
pursue  in  these  matters  seems  to  me  a  simple 
one  enough.  I  think  she  should  take  care  to 
appear  to  everybody  to  be  what  she  really  is 
in  all  respects,  and,  until  her  love  is  sought 
for,  take  no  other  care.  And  generally,  as 
regards  the  external  matters  of  fortune,  this 
is  the  simplest  and  easiest  tJiing  in  the  world. 
But  we  are  placed  in  an  exceptional  and  very 
painful  position.  If  we  were  at  liberty  to 
disclose  Julian's  secret  openly,  our  course 
would  be  at  least  easy  and  clear.     If  we  had 

9 


129 


neither  of  us" — here  the  rich  blush  re- 
turned— "  any  reason  to  imagine  that — that 
our  position  as  regards  f(jrtune  was  of  any 
interest  to  anybody  in  particular,  we  might 
be  content  to  allow  the  error  of  everybody  with 
respect  to  us  to  continue  for  the  short  time 
that  Julian's  safety — for  I  suppose  his  safety 
is  in  question — will  require  the  secret  to  be 
kept.  But  if  that  is  not  the  case,  Margaret," 
Kate  continued,  looking  fixedly  and  with  ear- 
nest seriousness  into  her  sister's  face  ;  "  if  we 
either  or  both  of  us  have  in  our  inmost  hearts 
reason  to  suppose  that  there  is  any  one  to 
whom  the  question  of  our  heiress-ship  to 
these  estates  may  be  a  matter  of  great  im- 
portance, you  will  surely  agree  with  me 
that,  whether  it  be  dictated  by  a  shopkeep- 
ing spirit  or  not,  what  we  ought  to  have 
most  earnestly  at  heart  should  be  to  find 
som«  means  of  preventing  that  somebody 
from  saying  or  doing  anything  which — they 
might,  perhaps,  not  do,  if  they  were  aware 
of  the  truth." 

"  I,  for  my  part,  even  if  I  could  agree  to 
all  you  have  been  saying,"  replied  Margaret, 
"  have  not  the  remotest  idea,  thank  Heaven, 
that  I  am  a  subject  of  interest  to  any  man 
who  would  be  mercenary  enough  to  be  influ- 
enced in  his  feelings  by  the  amount  of  fortune 
I  may  possess." 

"  I  hope  so,  with  all  my  heart,  dearest; 
but  you  see  at  once,  that  if  that  is  the  case, 
the  knowledge  of  your  want  of  fortune, 
when  it  shall  become  known,  will  make  no 
difference ;  and  you  will  be  spared  the  horror 
of  having  received  and  accepted  such  a  pro- 
posal when  made  under  an  impression  which 
you  knew  to  be  delusive." 

"  But  if  the  fact  of  this  odious  man's  ex- 
istence must  not  be  revealed  ?  "  urged  Mar- 
garet. 

"  That  makes  the  difficulty  and  the  cruel 
embarrassment !  "  returned  Kate  ;  "  the  only 
thing  I  can  think  of,  is  to  try  to  act  in  such 
a  manner  that  nothing  may  be  said — to  give 
no  opportunity — to  discourage  anything  that 
might  lead  to — to  anything  of  the  sort,"  said 
the  poor  girl,  twisting  her  hands  together  in 
the  extremity  of  her  distress  and  embarrass- 
ment. "  One  thing  is  quite  clear,"  she  con- 
tinued, after  a  pause,  and  speaking  more  en- 
ergetically :  "  that  if  unfortunately  any  pro- 
posal were  made  to  either  of  us  before  we  are 
at  liberty  to  reveal  the  truth,  it  must  be  met 
by  a  rejection." 


130 


LINDISFARN 

'  asked  ^larga 


CHASE. 


"  On  what  ground,  pray 
ret,  shortly. 

"  Ah  !  that  makes  the  misery  of  it !  We 
can  assign  no  ground.  It  is  horrible  in  any 
case  not  to  be  able  to  tell  the  truth  ;  and 
worst  of  all  in  such  a  case  as  that.  It  would 
be  absolutely  necessary  to  refuse,  and  abso- 
lutely impossible  to  give  the  real  reason  for 
refusing.  And  this  is  what  makes  it  so  very, 
very  much  to  be  prayed  for  that  no  such 
question  may  be  raised  before  we  are  at  lib- 
erty to  tell  the  truth  to  all  the  world.  One 
thing  only  is  quite  beyond  doubt ;  namely, 
that  a  rejection  could  be  the  only  answer. 
Think  what  it  would  be  to  accept  such  a  pro- 
posal, made  in  the  persuasion  that  it  was 
offered  to  the  heiress  of  Lindisfarn,  and  ac- 
cepted by  you  with  the  knowledge  that  you 
were  no  such  thing  !  I  think  it  would  kill 
me  on  the  spot !" 

"You  have  very  high-flown  sentimental 
notions,  Kate.  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  now, 
in  earnest,  that  if  Captain  Ellingham  were 
to  offer  to  you  to-morrow  morning,  you 
should  refuse  him?  " 

"  Most  unquestionably  I  should,"  said 
Kate,  while  a  cold  thrill  shot  through  her 
heart  at  the  thought  of  it. 

"And  without  telling  him  any  reason,  or 
at  least  without  telling  him  your  real  reason 
for  doing  so  ?  "  pursued  Margaret. 

"I  should.  How  could  I  do  otherwise? 
I  should  at  least  know  that  the  time  would 
come,  when  he  would  know  the  real  reason 
— no,  I  don't  mean  that ; — perhaps  he  would 
not  ever  know  that  !  But  at  least  I  should 
have  saved  him  from  forming  an  engagement 
under  a  mistaken  notion,  and  I  should  have 
saved  myself  from  the  intolerable  suspicion 
that  it  was  possible  that  I  wished  him  to 
do  so.  Of  course,  Margaret,  you  would  be 
obliged  to  do  the  same  ?  " 

"  I  can't  say  what  I  should  do  !  I  can't 
calculate  and  arrange  beforehand,  as  coldly 
as  you  do,  Kate,  what  I  should  say  on  such 
an  occasion.  The  most  delicate  and  proper 
course,  I  believe,  would  be  to  refer  to  papa 
for  an  answer.  " 

"  But  not  when  you  know  that  there  are 
material  circumstances  of  which  papa  is  ig- 
norant," urged  Kate. 

"Really,  Kate,  I  don't  know  what  I  should 
do  !  But  I  own  I  do  not  see  the  necessity  of 
debating  what  course  I  ought  to  pursue  if  an 


offer  should  be  made  to  me,  which  never  has 
been  made,  and  which  it  is  not  likely  ever 
will  be  made  !  " 

"  Oh,  Margaret!" 

"  Besides,  what  is  the  use  of  all  this,  if,  as 
you  say,  this  Julian  is  dying?  If  he  dies, 
all  this  trouble  and  misfortune  has  passed 
over.  " 

"  But,  in  the  first  place,  Margaret,  I  don't 
like  to  build  hopes  upon  my  poor  cousin's 
death  ;  in  the  second  place,  even  if  he  were 
to  die,  the  mischief  that  I  dread  either  for 
you  or  for  myself  may  arise  first ;  and  in 
the  third  place,  although  he  said  he  was  dy- 
ing,— and  when  I  first  saw  him  I  thought  that 
certainly  he  must  be,  he  looked  so  ghastly, — 
still  before  I  came  away,  I  began  to  have 
hopes  that  he  might  recover.  He  had  seen 
nobody  but  old  Bagstock — he  is  an  old  doc- 
tor at  Sillmouth,  who  is  good  for  nothing  ; — 
but  I  sent  Dr.  Blakistry  to  him,  who  is  a 
first-rate  surgeon,  and  I  do  not  think  it  at 
all  unlikely  that  his  life  may  be  saved." 

"  It  would  be  much  better  for  everybody 
if  he  were  to  die  !"  said  Margaret. 

"Oh,  Margaret,  you  must  not  talk  so! 
It  seems  like  murder  to  wish  that  another 
person  may  die  !  Besides,  I  am  not  sure, — 
I  don't  understand  the  matter — but  he  said 
something  about  his  death  not  making  any 
difference  to  us.  Perhaps  he  may  have  sold 
or  in  some  way  made  away  with  his  right  to 
the  property." 

"Good  heavens,  Kate!  Could  he  do 
that?" 

"  I  don't  know ;  I  am  very  ignorant  of  all 
such  matters ;  certainly  he  did  say  that  his 
death  would  make  no  difference  ;  and  I  un- 
derstood him  to  allude  to  the  inheritance  of 
the  estates." 

"  It  is  very,  very  dreadful,  and  I  de- 
clare ' ' — 

' '  What  were  you  going  to  say  ?  ' '  asked 
Kate  ;  for  Margaret  broke  off  her  sentence  in 
the  middle. 

"  Never  mind !  I  don't  know  what  I  was 
going  to  say.  It's  time  to  go  to  bed  ;  and  I 
want  to  think  over  the  shocking  news  you 
have  given  me." 

And  Margaret,  as  she  spoke,  got  up  from 
her  chair,  and  taking  up  her  candlestick 
from  Kate's  toilet-table,  turned  to  go  to  her 
own  room. 

"When  do  you  think  you  are  likely  to  hear 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


the  result  of  the  visit  of  this  doctor  you 
have  sent  to  our  cousin?  "  she  asked,  as  she 
was  leaving  the  room. 

"  I  hoped  I  might  have  heard  to-night. 
To-morrow  morning  no  doubt  I  shall  get  a 
message,"  replied  Kate. 

"Of  course  you  will  tell  me  directly." 

"Of  course.  But  oh,  Margaret  dear,  do 
not  let  your  heart  wish  for  tlie  death  of  this 
unfortunate  man  !" 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  we  are  the  unfortu- 
nates, rather  !  Good-night.  We  shall  prob- 
ably know  something  in  the  morning." 

"  fiood-night,  dear  !  And  oh,  Margaret, 
do  think  over  the  absolute  necessity  of  avoid- 
ing any  proposal,  while  all  remains  in  doubt 
and  we  are  bound  to  secrecy,  and  of  refusing 
it,  if  unfortunately  it  should  come  !" 

"Yes!  I  will  think  of  it.     Good-night!" 

And  so  the  sisters  parted  for  the  night  ; 
and  no  doubt  Margaret  did  meditate  long  and 
deeply,  while  probably  some  not  unpardona- 
ble tears  wetted  her  pillow,  on  the  important 
tidings  that  had  been  communicated  to  her. 
But  it  may  be  surmised  that  her  night 
thoughts  did  not  tend  exactly  in  the  direc- 
tion Kate  would  have  wished.  Indeed,  cer- 
tain glimpses  into  the  interior  of  Margaret's 
heart  and  mind,  which  had  been  afforded  to 
Kate  by  some  passages  of  the  above  conver- 
sation, had  been  the  second  painful  shock  her 
mind  had  undergone  that  day.  She  felt  that 
there  were  many  points,  and  indeed  whole 
ranges  of  subjects,  on  which  there  was  nei- 
llier  sympathy  nor  possibility  of  agreement 
oetween  them.  But  she  was  still  unaware 
of  tlie  wide  divergence  of  feeling  and  opinion, 
.tnd  of  the  amount  of  difference  in  the  course 
of  action  which  this  might  lead  to,  in  the  im- 
portant circumstances  now  before  them. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 
THE    LINDI3FARN  STONE. 

As  Kate  was  going  across  the  hall  into  the 
bruaiifast-room,  with  more  of  heavy  care  on 
hei  brow  and  trouble  in  her  heart  than  she 
haa  ever  known  a  short  day  or  two  ago, 
tlie  following  note  from  Sillmouth,  which 
had  been  brought  up  by  a  messenger  early 
that  morning,  was  put  into  her  hand. 

It  Wfc8  from  Dr.  Blakistry,  and  ran  thus  : 

"My  dkar  Miss  Lindisfarn, — 

"  Mrs.  Pendleton — your  old  nurse,  as  she 
tells  me,  and  a  very  decent  sort  of  woman. 


131 

though  a  smuggler's  wife — has  requested  that 
before  leaving  her  house  1  would  write  to 
you  my  report  of  the  patient  I  iiave  just 
been  visiting.  I  am  happy  to  tell  you — 
though  I  trust,  my  dear  young  lady  (and 
you  will  forgive  an  old  man  for  saying  so 
much)  I  trust  and  suppose,  that  you  have 
no  interest  in  him  beyond  that  of  simple 
humanity — that  he  is  likely  to  do  well,  and 
recover.  He  fancied  that  he  was  dying, — 
the  result  of  great  loss  of  blood  and  conse- 
quent weakness  and  depression,  and  of  the 
shock  to  the  nervous  system.  AYith  due 
care,  and  a  common  amount  of  prudence, 
he  will,  I  doubt  not,  be  back  again  in  La 
belle  France  in  a  month's  time,  and  will,  I 
Iiope,  stay  there  ;  for  thougli  1  saw  enough 
to  make  it  evident  to  me,  that  he  does  not 
belong  to  the  same  class  of  life  as  the  men 
with  whom  he  has  been  associating,  I  did 
not  see  anything  to  lead  me  to  think  the 
gentleman  an  acquisition  to  Sillshire. 
"  Believe  me,  my  dear  Miss  Lindisfarn, 
"  Very  faithfully  yours, 

"  Ja:jes  Blakistry." 
Kate  hurried   up-stairs  again  to  show  the 
note  to  Margaret,  who  had  not  yet  left  her 
room. 

"  So  that  chance  is  gone  !"  said  Margaret, 
in  much  depression  of  spirits,  and  looking  as 
if  she  had  passed  a  sleepless  night. 

"Oh,  Margaret,  we  ought  to  be  thankful 
tliat  the  temptation  to  wish  for  this  poor 
cousin's  death  has  been  removed  from  us." 
"  You  see  what  the  doctor  says.  He  does 
not  seem  to  have  been  prepossessed  in  his 
favor,  by  any  means." 

"  But,  Margaret,  another  part  of  the  note 
is  most  important  to  us.  Do  you  observe  Dr. 
Blakistry  says  that  he  may  get  well  enough 
to  return  to  France  in  a  month  ?  It  will  be 
a  whole  month,  therefore,  before  we  are  at 
liberty  to  tell  the  fact  which  will  make  our 
own  position  known  to  everybody.  This  is 
very,  very  hard.     It  is  dreadful  !  " 

"  Yes  !  it  will  be  a  month,"  said  Margaret, 
with  a  thoughtful  rather  than  with  a  dis- 
tressed expression  of  face  ;  "  before  we  are 
at  liberty  to  make  it  known  that  we  are  por- 
tionless !     A  month  is  a  long  time." 

"  Dreadful !  It  makes  me  almost  desperate 
to  think  of  it!  How  will  it  be  possible  to 
avoid  " — 

"To  avoid  what?"  said  Margaret,  pet- 
tishly. 

"  What  I  was  talking  to  you  of  last  night, 
you  know,  dear!  "  said  Kate;  while  a  mis- 
giving as  to  her  sister's  feelings  and  ideas 


132 

upon  the  subject,  almost  as  painful  to  her  as 
any  of  the  many  painful  phases  of  the  situa- 
tion, came  across  her  mind. 

"  Do  you  know,  Katey  dear,"  returned 
Margaret,  "it  seems  to  me  that  we  must 
each  of  us  manage  our  matters  in  the  miser- 
'ably  unfortunate  circumstances  which  have 
fallen  upon  us,  according  to  her  own  light ; 
on  one  thing  you  may  rely, — and  it  seems  to 
me  that  it  is  all  you  ought  to  ask  of  me, — 
I  will  faithfully  keep  my  promise  to  you. 
You  may  be  sure  that  the  secret  is  safe  with 
me.  I  shall  not  mention  the  fact  of  our 
Cousin  Julian's  existence  to  a  single  soul  till 
you  tell  me  I  am  free  to  do  so  !  " 

"  Of  course  I  know  that  you  will  keep 
your  promise.  But,  Margaret  dear,  that  is 
not  the  point  I  am  anxious  about.  You 
know  that  is  not  it !  " 

"  Well,  as  to  the  rest,  I  must  say  it  seems 
to  me  that  the  best  plan  would  be  for  us  not 
to  interfere  with  each  other.  The  two  cases, 
you  must  remember,  are  widely  different. 
Captain  EUingham — I  presume  it  is  for  him 
that  you  are  so  desperately  alarmed — is  a 
poor  man.  Lady  Farnleigh,  you  know,  very 
properly  told  us  so  when  she  first  brought 
him  here.  Whether  she  would  not  have  done 
better  and  acted  a  more  friendly  part  under 
the  circumstances  to  have  abstained  from 
bringing  him  here  at  all,  is  another  matter. 
I,  at  all  events,  have  no  reason  to  complain 
of  her  imprudence  in  doing  so !  But  Mr. 
Falconer — for  I  wont  pretend  not  to  under- 
stand that  you  are  thinking  of  him,  in  your 
sermons  to  me — Mr.  Falconer  is  not  a  poor 
man, — very  far  from  it !  And  that  makes 
such  a  difference  as  to  change  entirely  all  the 
considerations  that  ought  to  govern  one's 
conduct  in  the  matter." 

"  But  oh,  Margaret,  you  would  not  have 
him  propose  to  you,  thinking  you  an  heiress, 
to  find  out  his  mistake  afterward?  It  would 
be  impossible  for  you  to  accept  him  under 
such  circumstances.  It  would  be  dishonor- 
ing to  you,  and  to  all  of  us  !  " 

"  You  go  upon  the  supposition,  Kate,  that 
Mr.  Falconer  is  as  mercenary  as  " — 

Kate  gave  a  start  that  was  almost  a  bound  ; 
and  there  was  a  something  in  the  glance  of 
her  eye  that  Margaret  had  never  seen  there 
before,  and  that  probably  had  never  been 
there  before, — a  something  that  warned  her 
to  stop  short  in  what  she  was  saying ;  and 
to  continue, — 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


— "  That  is  I  don't  mean  to  express  any 
opinion  of  anybody  else ;  I  only  mean  that 
you  argue — you  must  admit  you  do — upon 
the  supposition  that  Falconer  is  actuated  by 
mercenary  motives  in  his  attentions  to  me. 
Now  I  don't  think  that  is  fair,  or  charitable, 
or  delicate.  I  entirely  refuse  to  believe  any- 
thing of  the  kind.  It  would  have  been  im- 
possible for  me  to  have  listened  to  him  for  an 
instant  otherwise  ;  for  my  own  heart  revolts 
so  instinctively  from  any  mixing  of  worldly 
considerations  with  matters  that  should  be 
regulated  by  the  purest  impulses  of  the  af- 
fections only,  the  whole  of  my  nature  rebels 
so  strongly  against  the  shopkeeping  spirit  in 
which,  as  I  have  always  heard,  such  things 
are  regarded  in  England,  that  I  cannot  sub- 
mit to  be  guided  by  any  maxims  drawn  from 
such  notions." 

"That  seems  all  very  right,"  said  Kate, 
sadly,  and  somewhat  mystified  by  the  grand- 
iloquent sentimentalities  of  Margaret's  ora- 
tion, delivered  with  a  tone  and  manner  which 
would  have  compelled  Madame  de  Renneville 
to  have  clasped  her  instantly  to  her  bosom, 
if  she  could  have  heard  it;  "but  yet,"  she 
added,  timidly, — 

"  There  is  the  bell !  "  interrupted  Marga- 
ret, glad  to  avoid  what  she  knew  Kate  was 
going  to  say,  just  as  well,  or  perhaps  more 
clearly  than  Kate  knew  it  herself;  "we 
must  make  haste  down,  or  we  shall  be  late, 
and  papa  will  be  angry." 

"  Yes,  we  must  go  !  "  said  Kate,  ruefully  ; 
"  and  mind,  dear,  we  must  keep  the  best 
countenance  we  can.  It  is  very  difficult  to 
have  trouble  at  heart,  and  not  show  it  in 
one's  face !  " 

"  I  dare  say  it  is  at  first,  to  those  who  have 
not  had  the  advantage  of  the  best  education," 
said  Margaret,  "  but  Madame  de  Rrwenne- 
ville  always  insisted  on  the  necessity  of  being 
able  to  do  so,  to  ajcwie  pcrsonne  bicn  elcvec."" 

Kate  did  noi  say  "  Hang  Madame  de  Ren- 
neville," or  any  feminine  equivalent  for  that 
masculine  mode  of  relieving  the  feelings, 
and  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  any  stronger 
evidence  of  the  angelic  sweetness  of  her  dis- 
position to  lay  before  the  reader. 

So  the  two  girls  went  down  to  breakfast : 
and  Kate  had  to  stand  a  fire  of  questions  from 
her  father  about  the  wounded  stranger  ;  and 
declarations  that  he  should  be  obliged  at  last 
to  forbid  her  visiting  Deep  Creek  Cottage ; 
for  that  that  fellow  Pendleton  would  end  Ity 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


making  the  county  too  hot  to  liold  him  ;  and 
that  if  he  did  it  would  be  a  good  riddance  for 
Winifred  ;  that  things  were  coming  to  a  pass 
whicli  would  make  it  absolutely  necessary  for 
the  gentlemen  of  the  county  to  set  their  faces 
more  decidedly  against  smuggling,  etc.,  etc., 
most  of  which  the  jolly  old  gentleman  had 
said  from  time  to  time  for  the  last  twenty 
years,  and  notwithstanding  which,  his  fine 
old  florid,  benevolence-beaming  face,  with  its 
adornment  of  silver  locks,  remained  set  much 
as  it  ever  had  been  and  was  likely  to  continue 
set,  as  long  as  he  was  lord  of  Lindisfarn.  ] 

"Any  commands,  ladies?  "  said  Mr.  Mat, 
as  they  were  leaving  the  breakfast-table. 
"  What  is  it  to  be  this  morning,  jMiss  Kate, 
a  gallop  over  the  common  to  Weston  ?  I 
think  you  seem  to  want  one  ;  you  look  as  if 
this  Sillmouth  business  had  fretted  you." 

"  No,  thank  you,  Mr.  Mat.  Birdie  has 
done  her  twenty  miles  yesterday  and  the  day 
before.  I  think  I  shall  have  one  of  my  ram-  j 
bles  in  the  woods  this  morning."  ] 

"  And  I  was  going  to  try  if  I  could  coax 
Mr.  Mat  to  drive  me  over  to  Silver  ton.  I 
promised  Aunt  Sempronia  that  I  would  pay 
her  a  visit."  ; 

"  Of  course  I'm  ready.  Miss  Mai-garet," 
said  Mr.  Mat,  with  not  the  best  grace  in  the 
world  ;  "  but  if  another  day  would  do  as 
Avell,  there  is  a  matter  I  wanted  to  see  to  at ! 
Farmer  Nixon's  at  Four-tree  Hollow  " —  | 

"  Come  now,  Mr.  Mat,"  returned  Marga- ' 
ret,  utterly  thi'owing  away  upon  the  savage 
a  glance  which  she  deemed,  and  which  ought 
to  have  been,  irresistible,  "  you  forgot  all 
about  Fai-mer  Nixon  and  Four-tree  Hollow, 
when  it  was  a  question  of  riding  with  Kate." 

"  iVh,  but  Miss  Kate,  you  see,"  returned 
Mr.  Mat,  pausing  when  he  had  got  thus  far,  \ 
and  scratching  his  black  scrubbing-brush  of  ; 
a  head  with  the  end  of  one  fore-finger,  while 
he  looked  at  IMargaret  with  a  naivete  utterly 
unconscious  of  any  offence  in  what  he  was 
saying,  pointing  at  the  same  time  with  his 
thumb  toward  the  door  by  which  Kate  had  , 
left  the  room, — "Miss  Kate,  you  see — is  Miss 
Kate  ;  and  there  is  not  another  such  between 
this  and  London  !  "  ! 

Never  had  Madame  de  Renneville's  golden 
rule  respecting  the  advantages  of  the  VoUo 
sciolto,  pensteri  stretti,  to  a  jeune  personne 
bkn  elevee  been  more  necessary  to  her  pupil 
than  while  she  replied,  with  a  smile  of  un- 
diminished sweetness, —  I 


133 

"  Oh  !  I  know  I  must  not  pretend  to  rival 
Kate  in  your  affections,  Mr.  Mat  " — 

"  Nay,  Miss  Margaret,"  replied  the  un- 
tamable savage,  shaking  his  head,  "  there's 
not  the  lass,  nor  the  lad  either,  above  ground 
who  can  do  that ;  for  I  do  love  her  better 
than  all  the  world  !  But  if  you  have  prom- 
ised her  ladyship  in  the  Close  " — 

"  Yes,  indeed,  Mr.  Mat;  I  know  my  aunt 
is  expecting  me,"  replied  Margaret,  who 
during  the  past  winffcr  had  followed  up  the 
good  impression  she  had  made  in  the  Close 
at  her  first  visit,  and  had  made  many  visits 
to  Silverton  in  consequence.  Indeed,  she  had 
in  that  manner  found  the  means  of  doing  a 
considerable  portion  of  the  flirtation  with 
Fred  Falconer,  which  had  been  requisite  for 
the  advancing  of  matters  between  them  to 
the  point  at  which  we  found  them,  when 
making  the  survey  for  our  carte  de  tendre  in 
the  present  spring.  It  was  true,  therefore, 
in  a  certain  sense,  for  Margaret  to  say  that 
her  aunt  was  expecting  her,  inasmuch  as 
she  certainly  expected  to  see  her  in  the  Close 
again  erelong.  But  it  was  not  true  that 
any  special  arrangement  had  been  made  for 
Margaret  to  come  to  Silverton  on  that  day. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Mr.  Mat,  in  reply  to 
Margaret's  declaration  to  that  effect,  "  of 
course  I'll  drive  you  over.  I  suppose  I  had 
better  order  the  gig  round  at  once?  " 

"  I  heard  you  asking  Mr.  Mat  to  drive  you 
over  to  Silverton,"  said  Kate,  who  was  put- 
ting on  her  walking  things  when  Margaret 
came  up-stairs  to  prepare  for  her  visit  to  Sil- 
verton ;  "I  should  hardly  have  wished,  I 
think,  in  your  place,  to  go  there  to-day,  if 
I  could  have  avoided  it.  Of  coui'se  you  will 
take  care  to  say  no  word  that  might  lead  to 
the  discovery  of  our  secret.  It  will  be  best 
to  say  nothing  about  the  smuggling,  or  the 
wounded  man,  or  the  fight,  or  anything  about 
it.  Neither  my  uncle  nor  AUfnt  Sempronia 
will  in  all  probability  have  heard  a  word  of 
it." 

"  I  will  take  care,"  said  Margaret. 

"And  Margaret,  dearest,"  added  Kate, 
looking  earnestly  and  beseechingly  at  her 
sister  ;  "  of  course  it  will  be  wise  under  the 
circumstances  to  avoid  any  chance  of  seeing 
Fred  Falconer ! ' ' 

"  I  never  seek  to  see  him,"  replied  Marga- 
ret, with  a  toss  of  her  head  ;  "  how  can  you 
suppose  that  I  should  do  such  a  thing?  " 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  do,  sissy  dear  ;  but 


134  LIND] 

I  think  that,  as  things  arc,  it  would  be  pru- 
dent to  seek,  all  you  possibly  can,  not  to  see 
Lim.  Think  how  you  would  be  distressed 
if — if  he  were  to  say  anything,  you  know  !  " 

"  I  know  what  I  am  about,  Kate!  "  said 
the  jeune  pcrsonne  Men  clevee,  who  did  such 
credit  to  her  Parisian  training. 

Pretty  much  depends,  as  Dick  Wyvill,  the 
groom,  had  justly  remarked,  on  "  the  manner 
in  which  they  are  broke." 

So  Kate  went  out  for  her  solitary  ramble 
among  the  woods  above  the  house,  and  Mar- 
garet got  into  the  gig  with  Mr.  Mat  for  her 
drive  to  Silverton.  The  former  directed  her 
steps  in  the  same  direction  as  she  had  done 
on  the  afternoon  previous  to  the  great  storm, 
during  which  the  Saucy  Sally  had  escaped 
from  the  Petrel.  Now,  as  then,  she  gradu- 
ally climbed  the  hill  by  the  zigzagging  wood 
paths,  till  she  reached  the  naked  rock  jutting 
out  from  the  soil  composed  of  slaty  debris 
and  vegetable  mould,  the  remains  of  many  a 
generation  of  oaks,  that  formed  the  topmost 
height  of  Lindisfarn  brow.  Upon  the  former 
occasion  she  had  gone  thither  with  the  inten- 
tional purpose  of  looking  out  at  the  signs  of 
the  weather.  Now  it  was  an  in-look  into 
her  own  heart  that  mainly  interested  her, 
and  for  the  sake  of  which  she  had  come  out 
for  a  solitary  ramble  in  the  woods  ;  and  she 
wandered  up  to  the  summit  of  the  brow, 
careless  of  the  direction  she  was  taking. 

The  huge  limestone  mass,  which  formed 
the  Lindisfarn  Stone,  as  it  was  called  par 
excellence,  rose  out  of  the  earth  by  a  gradual 
and  moss-grown  slope  on  the  side  looking 
away  from  Lindisfarn  house,  from  the  gently- 
swelling  wooded  hill  that  sloped  down  to  Lin- 
disfarn Brook,  from  Silverton,  and  from  the 
coast.  The  other  side,  which  looked  toward 
all  these  places,  formed,  on  the  contrary,  a 
precipitous  little  cliff  in  miniature,  some  fif- 
teen or  twenty  feet  in  height.  And  the 
ground  in  front  of  it  fell  away  at  its  foot  in 
a  steep  declivity  for  a  further  height  of 
another  twenty  feet  or  so,  at  the  bottom  of 
which  grew  the  nearest  trees.  So  that  a 
person  on  the  top  of  the  Lindisfarn  Stone 
was  on  a  vantage  ground  which  enabled  him 
to  look  over  the  thick  forest,  and  to  command 
a  charming  view  of  all  the  falling  ground, 
and  of  the  opposite  side  of  the  Lindisfarn 
Brook  valley  up  to  the  old  tower  of  Silverton 
castle,  which  could  just  be  seen  over 
crest  of  the  opposite  hill. 


SFARN    CHASE. 

Kate  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  stone,  as  she 
had  done  on  many  a  former  occasion,  but 
never  with  so  heavy  and  care-laden  a  heart 
before ;  and  sat  herself  down  near  the  edge 
of  it,  facing  the  precipitous  side  and  the  well- 
known  view  over  the  woods  and  fields,  which 
were  to  be  hers  no  more. 

The  lord  of  Lindisfarn  was  monarch  of 
nearly  all  that  he  surveyed  from  the  top  of  the 
Lindisfarn  Stone  :  and  the  spot  was  one  emi- 
nently calculated  to  suggest  ideas  connected 
with  territorial  proprietorship.  But  Kate 
had  come  thither  with  no  leaning  toward  any 
such  thoughts  in  her  head.  Her  heart  was 
full  of  troubles,  which,  though  taking  their 
rise  from  the  same  source,  pressed  upon  her 
immediately  under  a  different  aspect. 

Oh  that  she  could  hide  herself,  bury  her- 
self, lock  herself  up  for  the  nest  month  to 
come  !  There,  on  the  solitary  Lindisfarn 
Stone,  she  was  safe  for  the  passing  hour. 
Would  that  it  were  possible  to  remain  there ; 
where  at  least  for  the  nonce  she  was  secure 
from  the  dreaded  danger  of  that  pursuit 
which  had  so  often  been — and  she  bluslied  as 
the  confession  passed  through  her  mind — a 
source  of  happiness  to  her  ! 

She  had  been  sitting  thus  for  some  time, 
letting  the  minutes  heap  themselves  up  into 
hours,  while  she  mused  at  one  moment  on  a 
whole  brainful  of  minute  little  projects  for 
avoiding  all  chances  of  any  such  interview 
with  Captain  EUingham  as  might  give  him 
an  opportunity  for  saying  the  words  she  now 
so  dreaded  to  hear ;  and  then  again  on  the 
manner  in  which  it  would  behoove  her  to  com- 
port herself,  and  on  the  words  she  would  have 
to  say,  if  that  terrible  misfortune,  despite  all 
her  eflbrts  to  avoid  it,  should  befall  her.  She 
tried  to  figure  forth  to  herself  the  scene  as  it 
would  take  place,  to  imagine  the  words  which 
he  miglit  be  supposed  to  say,  and  those  in 
which  slie  would  be  compelled  by  cruel  fate 
— ah,  how  cruel! — to  answer  him.  And  as 
she  placed  it  all  on  the  stage  of  her  imagina- 
tion, she  rehearsed  accurately  enough  at  least 
one  portion  of  the  role,  as  she  would  in  all 
probability  play  it ; — for  she  wept  bitterly. 

Presently  she  was  startled  by  the  sound  of 
voices  among  the  trees  beneath  her,  just 
within  the  edge  of  the  forest,  where  it  en- 
circled the  clear  space  occupied  by  the  Lin- 
disfarn Stone  ;  and  listening  with  head  ei'ect 
and  bated  breath,  like  a  hare  startled  on  her 
form,  was  able  in  the  next  minute  to  distin- 


the 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


fi^ufsh  those  of  Captain  Ellingliam  and  old 
Brian  Wyvill,  the  pensioned  ex-gamckcepcr. 
"  There  be  the  Lindisfarn  Stoan,  zur  !  "  she 
heard  the  latter  say;  "that  be  the  highest 
ground  in  all  the  Lindisfarn  land  ;  and  vrom 
the  tcp  o'  that  stoan  you  may  zee  a'most  all 
the  estate.  'Tis  a  bewtiful  zcat  to  zct  on  ; 
and  Miss  Kate  comes  cp  here  time  and  again. 
I  zenis  wc  shall  \iud  her  here  now." 

And  the  next  minute  the  speaker,  emerg- 
ing with  his  companion  from  the  edge  of  the 
wood,  espied  her  on  the  top  of  the  rock 
above  tliera. 

"  There  she  be,  zurc  enough,  capten  ! 
Please,  Miss  Kate,  capten  kem  up  to  the 
Chase  a-wanting  vor  tu  speak  tu  ee,  and  as 
yew  W08  not  tu  house,  I  tould  un,  I  thot  a 
cou'd  vind  ee ;  zo  we  kem  up  the  vorest  te- 
gether." 

"  It's  a  true,  full,  and  particular  account. 
Miss  Lindisfarn.  I  did  come  up  to  the  Chase 
on  purpose  to  speak  to  you,  and  was  very  un- 
willing to  return  and  leave  my  errand  unsaid, 
and  so  ventured  by  the  help  of  old  Brian  to 
start  on  an  exploring  cruise  in  search  of  you. 
May  I  scale  your  fortress?  " 

"  If  you  can  fmd  the  way  to  do  so,"  re- 
plied Kate,  striving  to  speak  in  her  usual 
light-hearted  tone,  and  hoping  that  he  might 
lose  some  little  time  in  finding  the  side  by 
which  the  stone  is  accessible,  and  so  give  her 
a  few  moments  to  collect  herself  and  dry  her 
eyes.  She  strove  hard  to  speak  gayly,  but 
there  was  a  tremor  in  her  voice  ;  for  her  heart 
was  beating  as  though  it  would  force  its  way 
out  from  her  bosom.  For  a  moment  she  clung 
to  an  absurd  hope  that  old  Brian  Wyvill 
would  remain,  and  make  any  ie^e-tt-^e/e  conver- 
sation impossible  ;  but  in  the  next,  she  heard 
him  tell  Captain  EUingham  that  he  "  med  walk 
eptu  the  tep  of  the  stoan  on  t'other  zideev it," 
and  saw  him  turn  to  go  down  the  hill. 

EUingham  little  thought,  when  he  talked 
playfully  of  scaling  her  fortress,  how  nearly 
the  words  represented  the  true  state  of  the 
case,  and  how  much  she  would  have  given  to 
have  made  it  absolutely  inaccessible  to  him. 

She  had  little  doubt  that  the  misfortune 
she  had  much  dreaded  had  fallen  upon  her 
already.  If  she  had  not  been  in  such  a  nerv- 
ous agony  of  fear,  lest  EUingham  should  pro- 
pose to  her  under  the  present  circumstances, 
she  probably  would  not  have  felt  so  certain 
that  it  was  coming.  As  it  was,  she  had  lit- 
tle doubt  of  it ;  and  the  fear  of  the  bitter. 


135 

bitter  draught  that  was  nearly  at  her  lips 
was  so  great  as  to  suggest  a  mad  and  mo- 
mentary thought  of  the  possibility  of  escape 
from  it  by  throwing  herself  off  the  rock  from 
the  front  of  it  before  her  lover  could  reach 
the  top  of  it  from  behind. 

Her  lover  !  Yes.  Kate  did  not  pretend  to 
herself  to  have  any  duubt  about  it.  There 
stands  the  account  of  her  conversation  with 
EUingham  on  the  occasion  of  her  attempt  at 
bribery  and  corruption,  fairly  reported  in  a 
previous  chapter.  One  does  not  find  any- 
thing like  love-making  in  it !  Lydia  Lan- 
guish could  not  scent  the  faintest  odor  of 
'' la  hcUe passion''''  in  any  part  of  the  conver- 
sation. The  combined  ingenuity  of  Dodson 
and  Fogg  could  not  have  extracted  from  it 
the  faintest  indication  of  a  compromising  in- 
tention. Yet  it  was  after  that  conversation 
that  EUingham  had  felt  as  if  he  were  walk- 
ing on  air,  and  had  gone  off  in  the  gig  tri- 
umphant and  rejoicing.  It  was  when  she 
went  up  to  her  room  to  prepare  for  her  ride 
to  Sillmouth,  to  carry  the  tidings  of  his  utter 
refusal  to  comply  with  her  wishes,  that  Kate 
had  first  felt  the  delicious  certainty  that  he 
was  hers,  and  hers  only,  forever. 

Strange  !  How  poor  imperfectly-articu- 
late, half-dumb  lovers  do  get  to  understand 
each  other  in  some  way,  certainly  deserves 
an  enlightened  naturalist's  attention.  The 
ants,  too,  how  curious  is  the  way  in  which 
they  evidently  communicate  intelligence,  of- 
ten of  a  complicated  character,  to  one  an- 
other, apparently  also  in  their  case  by  the 
appropinquation  of  noses  !  I  suppose,  how- 
ever, that  the  ants  have  expressive  eyes 
Otherwise  I  have  no  conception  how  they 
manage  their  confabulations. 

Putting  out  of  the  question,  however,  the 
whole  of  that  intensely  interesting  suliject 
on  which  poor  Kate  so  dreaded  to  hear  El- 
lingham  enter,  there  were  topics  enough  on 
which  it  was  very  natural  he  might  wish  to 
speak  to  her.  They  had  not  met  since  that 
memorable  conversation  at  the  early  break- 
fast-table. It  was  very  intelligible  that  they 
should  both  wish  to  talk  over  the  result  of 
the  events  to  which  they  were  then  looking 
forward.  Nevertheless,  Kate  felt  sure  that 
Ellingham's  present  errand  was  not  merely 
to  talk  of  smugglers  and  smuggler  hunting. 
She  knew — why  or  how  slie  knew  she  could 
not  tell — but  she  had  not  the  slightest  doubt 
that    the   misfortune,    to  the  possibility  of 


136 


LINDISFARN    CHASE 


■which  she  had  been  looking  forward  as  the 
most  terrible  that  could  happen  to  her,  had 
in  reality  fallen  upon  her.  Nor  did  she 
doubt  or  waver  for  an  instant  in  her  deci- 
sion as  to  the  only  answer  that  it  was  pos- 
sible for  her  to  make  to  the  communication 
that  awaited  her.  If  only  she  could  have 
told  him  the  truth  ! — not  all  the  truth, — 
not  the  too  undeniable  truth  that  she  loved 
him  with  a  passion  that  paled  all  else  in 
life,  even  as  a  sunbeam  pales  the  dull  glow 
of  fire  among  the  ashes  on  a  hearth  half 
burned  out, — not  this,  but  simply  the  truth 
respecting  the  vanishing  of  her  worldly 
wealth !  Far,  far  better,  infinitely  better 
would  it  have  been  if  that  truth  could  have 
been  made  known  to  him  before  he  had  set 
forth  on  the  errand  that  had  now  brought 
him  to  the  Lindisfarn  Stone !  Failing  this, 
it  would  have  been  an  infinite  relief  to  her 
to  have  been  able  to  tell  the  truth  now,  and 
to  attribute  her  rejection  to  its  true  motives. 
But  to  be  obliged  to  answer  him  by  an  un- 
motived  rejection, — she,  in  her  character  of  a 
wealthy  heiress,  to  refuse  her  hand  to  the 
brave  man,  rich  in  honor,  loyal  truth,  noble 
thoughts,  and  all  the  treasures  of  a  loving, 
honest,  manly  heart — to  be  compelled  the 
while  to  hide  with  jealous  care  every  word, 


every  action,  every  glance,  that  might  be- 
tray the  secret  of  that  yearning  love,  which 
seemed  to  be  intensified  by  the  pity  she  felt 
for  the  pang  she  was  about  to  inflict ;  to 
crush  deep  down  into  the  recesses  of  the 
beating  little  heart,  that  was  bounding  in  its 
prison-house  with  longing  to  pour  itself  and 
all  its  thoughts  and  sorrows  and  troubles 
into  his  arms,  every  indication  that  she  was 
not  in  truth  the  cold  mammon-worshipping 
worldling  that  she  must  necessarily  appear 
to  him, — this  was  indeed  a  cruel,  cruel 
fate! 

In  a  minute  or  two  more  she  heard  Cap- 
tain Ellingham  coming  up  the  sloping  side 
of  the  rock  behind  her.  She  was  seated,  as 
has  been  said,  on  the  verge  of  the  other  side, 
looking  towards  Silverton,  with  her  back 
turned  to  the  side  from  which  he  was  ap- 
proaching. Every  foot-fall,  as  he  stepped 
hurriedly  across  the  nearly  flat  top  of  the 
huge  stone,  seemed  to  strike  a  blow  on  her 
heart.  She  would  have  risen  to  meet  him  ; 
but  it  was  utterly  impossible  for  her  to  do 
so.  She  sat  gazing  over  the  prospect  of 
woods  and  distant  fields  as  if  she  were  fasci- 
nated and  rooted  to  the  spot,  till  she  heard 
his  voice  by  her  side. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


CUAPTER     XXV. 
"tears   from   the  DEPTn     OF   SOME   DIVINE    DE- 
SPAIR !  " 

"  Have  you  been  able  to  forgive  me  yet, 
Miss  Lindisfaru,"  said  the  voice  close  behind 
and  above  her  in  very  gentle  accents,  "for 
the  brutality  with  which  I  refused  all  your 
requests  at  the  breakfast-table  the  other 
morning?  " 

"  Pray  don't  suppose,  Captain  EUingham, 
that  I  am  not  fully  aware  that  it  is  I  who 
need  forgiveness  for  having  ventured  to  make 
a  suggestion  to  you  which  involved  a  breach 
of  duty.  If  I  had  not  been  worked  up  to  a 
state  of  desperation  by  the  terrors  of  my  old 
nurse,  I  should  not  have  been  guilty  of  the 
indiscretion,"  said  Kate. 

The  I'eply  was  a  natural  one  enough,  and 
altogether  a  sensible  and  proper  one.  Yet 
there  was  an  undefinable  something  in  the 
tone  or  manner  of  it,  which  rang  unpleasantly 
on  EUingham 's  ear.  It  seemed  to  imply  re- 
gret that  the  incident  should  ha\e  occurred 
at  all  ;  whereas  he  looked  back  to  it  with 
delight,  and  treasured  up  every  word,  and 
dwelt  on  every  accent  with  ecstasy.  There 
was  a  cold,  dry,  formal  tone,  too,  in  the  ac- 
cent with  which  she  spoke,  that  smote  his 
ear,  and  distressed  him.  It  was  the  result 
of  the  arduous  struggle,  that  was  going  on 
within  her,  poor  girl !  to  save  herself  from 
bursting  into  tears,  and  to  find  strength  and 
sense  to  answer  him  calmly  and  coherently. 

"  But  you  see  how  needless  Mrs.  Pendle- 
ton's terrors  were  !  If  it  were  not  that  I  am 
perfectly  well  convinced  that  Miss  Lindis- 
farn's  approbation  would  be  accorded  to  per- 
formance and  not  to  breach  of  duty,  I  might 
be  tempted  to  take  credit  for  having  let  the 
smuggler  slip  through  my  fingers  intentionally 
in  obedience  to  your  wishes.  The  honest 
truth  is  that  I  tried  all  I  could  to  catch 
him,  and  he  out-manoeuvred  me  !  " 

"  I  suppose  it  does  not  involve  a  very  seri- 
ous breach  of  the  revenue  laws  to  be  glad  that 
the  matter  ended  as  it  did,"  said  Kate,  feel- 
ing a  little  more  tranquil,  as  a  faint  hope 
came  to  her  that  perhaps,  after  all,  EUing- 
ham's  present  purpose  was  only  to  speak  of 
the  afiair  with  the  Saucy  Sally. 

"  For  you,  at  all  events,  Miss  Lindisfarn, 
it  is,  I  conceive  perfectly  lawful  to  rejoice  in 
the  discomfiture  of  the  Petrel;  but  in  my  case 
it  is  not  only  the  revenue  laws,  but  a  sailor's 
professional  pride,  that  stands  in  the  way  of 


137 

my  being  heartily  glad  of  the  Saucy  Sally's 
escape.  It  was  a  superb  feat  of  seamanship 
that  that  fellow  Pendleton  performed  that 
night;  and  an  admirable  boat  tlie  Saucy 
Sally  must  be." 

"  I  have  heard  she  is  a  very  first-rate 
sailer,"  replied  Kate. 

"  First-rate  indeed  !  But  what  a  pity  it 
is  that  sucli  a  seaman  as  that  man  must  be, 
should  be  on  tiie  wrong  side,  and  break  the 
law,  instead  of  serving  his  country.  There's 
one  thing,  at  all  events,  may  be  said  for  high 
custom  duties,  and  the  smuggling  that  arises 
from  them, — no  honest  trade  ever  did  or 
ever  will  breed  such  seamen  as  smuggling 
does.  I  wish  your  protege,  Miss  Lindislarn, 
could  be  persuaded  to  give  it  up.  I  shall 
surely  catch  him  one  of  these  days,  or  nights 
rather ; — or  if  not  I,  some  other  fellow  on 
our  side." 

"Yes;  I  wish  he  would  give  it  up,  for 
poor  Winifred's  sake,"  said  Kate. 

All  this  time  EUingham  had  been  standing 
by  her,  as  she  sat  in  the  position  she  had  first 
taken  on  the  rock.  He  was  by  her  side,  but 
somewhat  behind  her  ;  and  she,  though  she 
had  turned  her  head  a  little  toward  him  in 
speaking,  had  hardly  raised  her  eyes  to  his 
face.  He  had  begun  the  conversation  in  the 
most  natural  manner,  by  speaking  on  the 
subject  which  was,  of  course,  one  of  interest 
to  both  of  them  ;  but  he  was  now  at  a  loss 
how  to  get  from  it  to  the  real  object  of  his 
visit.  But  he  had  come  up  to  Lindisfarn 
that  day,  and  had  pursued  the  chase  up  to 
Lindisfarn  brow,  quite  determined  to  do  the 
deed  he  had,  not  without  very  considerable 
difficulty,  made  up  his  mind  to  do  before  he 
returned.  Captain  EUingham  was  not  the 
sort  of  a  man  to  leave  undone  that  which  he 
had  determined  to  do.  He  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  do  it,  I  say,  not  without  some  diffi- 
culty, and  after  a  good  deal  of  consideration 
and  hesitation.  Perhaps  he  would  not  have 
done  so  at  all  without  the  aid,  comfort,  and 
counsel  of  Lady  Farnleigh.  There  is  no 
means  of  knowing  exactly  what  may  have 
passed  between  them  on  the  subject ;  but 
in  all  probability  Lady  Farnleigh,  from  the 
first,  intended  that  her  two  favorites  should 
make  a  match  of  it ;  and  there  can  be  little 
doubt  that  it  was  due  to  her  representations 
and  advice  that  the  poor  revenue  ofiicer  event- 
ually determined  to  venture  on  offering  to 
an  heiress  of  two  thousand  a  year.     Having 


138 

made  up  his  mind  to  do  so,  and  having  fixed 
on  tlie  present  day  and  hour  for  accomplish- 
ing the  purpose,  difficult  or  not  difficult,  he 
meant  now  to  do  it. 

"  Yes  ;  I  wish,  he  would  give  it  up  for 
poor  Winifred's  sake,"  Kate  had  said  in  re- 
ply to  his  last  remark,  uttering  the  words 
in  a  more  simple  and  natural  tone  than  she 
had  used  before. 

"  Mrs.  Pendleton  was  a  great  favorite  with 
you  all  at  the  Chase,  I  believe,"  said  Elling- 
ham,  advancing  a  step  as  he  spoke  and  sit- 
ing down  on  the  rock  by  her  side. 

The  movement  revived  all  Kate's  worst 
suspicions  and  terrors.  She  would  have 
risen  from  her  seat,  and  at  once  commenced 
her  walk  back  to  the  house,  so  as  to  have 
limited  the  time  at  his  disposition  to  a  few 
minutes  only  ;  but  she  felt  her  limbs  trem- 
bling so,  that  she  did  not  dare  to  make  the 
attempt,  and  remained  as  if  chained  to  the 
rock,  with  her  eyes  fixed  unconsciously  and 
unmeaningly  on  the  little  black  square  on 
the  horizon  representing  the  ruined  keep  of 
Silverton  Castle. 

"  A  favorite  with  you  all,  was  she  not?  " 
repeated  EUingham. 

"  Yes,  we  had  all  a  great  regard  for  her," 
said  Kate,  still  apparently  absorljed  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  distant  view  of  Silver- 
ton  Castle  keep. 

"  And  it  was  for  her  sake,  doubtless,  that 
you  were  led  to  feel  an  interest  in  the  fate  of 
that  bold  smuggler  and  very  excellent  sea- 
man, her  husband." 

"  Of  course,  naturally.  Poor  woman  !  she 
was  in  a  state  of  great  anxiety  and  distress." 

"  Of  course.  Her  whole  life  must  be  one 
of  anxiety." 

"  It  was  a  source  of  much  trouble  and  re- 
gret to  us  when  she  married,  though  her 
husband  was  not  a  smuggler  then." 

"  Did  you  object  then,  as  her  friends  and 
protectors,  to  her  marrying  a  sailor?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  But  there  were  then  reasons 
for  thinking  that  he  was  not  a  very  steady 
man.  I  was  too  young  at  the  time  to  under- 
stand much  about  it ;  but  I  know  that  my 
father  and  jNIr.  ]Mat  were  not  altogether  sat- 
isfied with  Pendleton's  previous  history." 

"You  would  not  have  objected,  then,  to 
the  marriage  merely  on  the  ground  of  the 
man's  being  a  sailor?" 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  !"  said  Kate,  quite  unsus- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


piciously  ;  if  we  could  only  have  felt  well 
assured  that  he  would  have  continued  stead- 
ily to  follow  his  business  as  a  boat-owner  and 
fisherman,  as  he  was  when  poor  Winny  mar- 
ried him,  we  should  have  been  perfectly  well 
contented." 

"  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you,  Miss  Lindis- 
farn,  when  thinking  of  the  lot  of  your  favor- 
ite nurse,  to  judge  of  her  chances  of  happi- 
ness by  putting  the  case  to  yourself?  Did 
you  ever  ask  yourself  whether  you  could  have 
been  content  to  take  for  your  partner  in  life 
one  whose  vocation  called  him  to  pass  much 
of  his  life  on  the  ocean  ?  " 

"  Is  it  likely,"  replied  Kate,  whose  heart 
began  here  again  to  beat  with  painful  vio- 
lence and  rapidity, — "  is  it  likely,  do  you 
think,  that  any  such  idea  would  present  it- 
self to  a  little  girl  of  twelve  years  old  ?  " 

And  no  sooner  were  the  words  out  of  her 
mouth  than  she  could  have  bitten  off  her 
tongue  for  speaking  them  ;  for  it  flashed  into 
her  mind,  that  they  might  seem  to  imply 
that  at  her  pr£sent  more  matur*  period  of 
life,  such  a  consideration  might  have  occurred 
to  her.  It  was,  however,  impossible  to  recall 
them  ;  and  Captain  EUingham  proceeded  hur- 
riedly. 

"  But  since  that  time  the  sight  of  poor 
Mrs.  Pendleton's  troubles  may  have  sug- 
gested such  a  thought  to  you." 

"Her  troubles  have  arisen,"  returned  Kate, 
fencing,  and,  as  she  used  the  simple  truth  for 
the  purpose,  fencing  very  unskilfully,  "not 
from  being  the  wife  of  a  sailor,  but  from  be- 
ing the  wife  of  a  smuggler." 

And  again,  as  soon  as  the  words  were 
past  recall,  she  was  horrified  by  the  sudden 
thought,  that  they  might  seem  to  encourage 
the  idea  which  she  was  anxious  to  discour- 
age by  every  possible  means. 

"  The  thought  was  never  suggested  to  you, 
then,  Miss  Lindisfarn,  whether  or  no  you 
could  yourself  be  ever  induced  to  accept  the 
love  of  a  sailor?"  said  EUingham,  with  a 
momentary  glance  into  her  eyes  that  would 
have  said  all  he  had  to  say  to  the  most  ob- 
tuse of  Eve's  daughters,  even  if  she  had  been 
previously  wholly  unsuspicious  of  liis  intent, 
and  not  without  a  little  tremor  in  his  voice. 

Here  it  was  then  !  The  dreaded  moment 
was  come  !  What — what  was  she  to  reply  ? 
Stave  off  the  evil  yet  a  moment  longer  byre- 
fusing  to  understand  liira  ?     She  hated  her- 


LINDISFARN 

self  for  the  cowardly  evasion,  but  adopted  it 
in  the  extremity  of  her  distress  and  embar- 
rassment, 

"  Girls,  I  fancy,  rarely  trouble  their  heads 
with  speculations  having  reference  to  such 
matters,  and  on  cases  that  do  not  seem  to 
have  any  probability  to  commend  them  to 
their  notice,"  she  said,  turning  her  face 
more  away  from  him  as  she  spoke,  in  a  man- 
ner tliat  unmistakably  indicated  the  annoy- 
ance she  was  sulTcring. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Lindisfarn,  has  no  probability 
of  such  a  question  being  asked  of  you  ever 
commended  itself  to  your  notice  ?  Have  you 
not  seen — but  it  is  contemptible  of  me  to 
embarrass  you  thus  by  cowardly  shrinking 
from  the  subject  on  which  I  came  here  pur- 
posely to  speak.  Miss  Lindisfarn,"  he  went 
on  with  a  sort  of  hurried  desperation,  "  1 
came  to  the  Chase  this  day,  and  I  took  the 
liberty  of  following  you  hither,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  asking  j'ou  to  be  my  wife.  I  say 
nothing  about  the  entirety  of  my  happiness 
being  dependent  on  your  reply ;  it  is  of 
course  that  it  should  be  so.  A  man  must  be 
a  wretch  indeed,  that  could  address  you,  as 
I  am  daring  to  do,  were  it  otherwise.  I 
think  you  must  know  that  I  love  you  well. 
Not  that  any  such,  knowledge  can  give  me 
the  slightest  right  to  presuppose  your  an- 
swer. But  it  makes  it  needless  for  me  to 
try  to  tell  you  how  much,  how  entirely,  you 
have  become  all  in  all  to  me.  I  am  not  a  young 
man.  Most  men  have  loved  more  than  once 
before  they  have  reached  my  years  ;  but  it 
is  the  first-fruit  of  my  heart  that  I  am  offer- 
ing you.  My  life  has  not  been  a  prosperous 
or  a  very  happy  one.  My  path  through  the 
world  has  always  been  on  the  shady  side  of 
the  wall  !  And  the  fact  that  it  has  been  so 
makes  my  presumption  in  asking  for  the  sun- 
shine of  your  love  seem  the  greater  to  me. 
I  ask  you  to  smile  on  a  man  who  has  had 
few  smiles  from  any  one.  I  ask  you  to  take 
a  pale  and  colorless  life,  with  nothing  in  it 
save  the  one  stern  presence  of  Duty,  with 
nothing  of  present  brightness  and  little  of 
future  hope,  and  transfigure  it  with  the  sun- 
shine and  warmth  and  glory  of  your  love  ! 
That  is  all  I  ask  ;  and  I  proffer  nothing  in 
return  save — nothing  at  all  ;  I  have  nothing 
to  proffer.  What  is  my  love  to  one  who  has 
love  and  admiration  from  everybody, — every- 
body from  her  cradle  upward  !  " 

All  this  had  been  poured  out  with  pas- 


CHASE. 


139 


sionate  rapidity  and  vehemonce,  while  Kate 
kept  her  face  steadily  turned  away  from  him 
toward  the  distant  horizon.  lie  might  Iiave 
supposed  that  no  word  of  all  he  had  said  had 
reached  her  ear,  so  motionless  and  utterly 
voiceless  she  remained  !  But  though  slie  had 
commanded  herself  sufficiently  to  allow  no 
sound  to  escape  her  lips,  her  power  of  self- 
control  had  been  limited  to  the  effort  needed 
for  that.  The  silent  tears  were  streaming 
from  her  eyes  ;  and  she  feared  even  to  raise 
her  hand  to  her  face  to  dry  them,  lest  the 
motion  should  betray  her  agitation. 

He  had  paused  a  moment  or  two  ;  but  no 
sound  of  answer  came. 

"  Is  there  no  hope  for  me  ?  "  ho  asked,  in 
a  tremulous  voice  ;  "  must  the  future  be  a 
yet  more  cheerless  and  hopeless  blank  to  me 
than  the  past?  Miss  Lindisfarn,  is  there  no 
hope  for  me?  " 

Still  there  came  no  word,  and  her  face  was 
turned  away  so  that  he  could  not  see  it. 
But  she  shook  her  head  with  a  slow,  sad  mo- 
tion, which  very  plainly  expressed  a  reply  in 
the  negative  to  the  question  that  had  been 
asked  her. 

"  Gracious  Heaven  !  Is  that  my  answer? 
Do  I  understand  you  aright  ?  Miss  Lindis- 
farn !  "  he  continued,  in  a  voice  tremulous 
with  the  agony  of  his  mind,  the  tones  of 
which  were  well  calculated  to  make  their 
way  to  a  tougher  heart  than  that  of  her  on 
whose  ear  they  fell,  "Miss  Lindisfiirn  !  is 
that  your  sole  answer  ?  Have  you  no  word 
for  me  ?  " 

But  still  no  other  answer  came  than  a 
repetition  of  the  same  slow  and  sad  shaking 
of  the  head. 

"  Then  God  help  me  !  My  life  is  done !  " 
he  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  utter  despair  ;  "  I 
ought  not  to  have  set  my  all  on  so  desperate 
a  cast !  Miss  Lindisfarn,  I  ought,  perhaps, 
to  say  that  I  have  not  been  unaware  of  the 
very  wide  distance  placed  between  us  in  re- 
spect to  the  goods  of  fortune.  But  I  have 
not  cared  to  touch  on  that  head,  because  I 
am  quite  sure  that  your  decision  on  my  fate, 
be  it  what  it  might,  would  not  turn  on  that 
consideration  " — 

Here  Kate's  agitation  beciime  such  that 
her  shoulders,  which  were  turned  toward 
him,  and  her  whole  person,  were  visibly 
shaken  by  it ;  and  with  a  great  gasping  sob 
there  burst  from  her,  as  if  it  had  forced  it- 
self from  licr  heart  against  her  will,  the  ex- 


140 

clamatloD,  "  God  bless  you.  Captain  Elling- 
ham,  for  that  word !  "  and  then  the  pent-up 
agony  could  be  held  in  no  longer,  and  she 
burst  into  a  storm  of  sobs  and  tears,  so  vio- 
lent as  to  be  wholly  beyond  her  power  to 
control  it. 

Ellingham  was  so  utterly  unprepared  for 
any  such  manifestation  of  feeling,  so  com- 
pletely amazed  and  thunderstruck,  that  he 
did  not  at  the  moment  accurately  apply  her 
words  to  the  phrase  of  his  that  called  them 
forth. 

"  Gracious  Heaven !  Miss  Lindisfarn,  'what 
have  I  done  ?  What  have  I  said  ?  Why  are 
you  so  distressed  ?  It  is  for  me  to  bear,  as 
God  shall  give  me  strength,  the  blow  that 
has  fallen  on  me.  I  have  no  right,  and, 
Heaven  knows,  no  wish,  to  distress  you 
thus." 

Still  the  convulsive  sobbing  continued  de- 
spite her  utmost  efforts  to  recover  control 
over  herself.  Ellingham  was  utterly  at  a 
loss  what  interpretation  to  put  upon  her  ex- 
treme agitation.  After  another  short  pause, 
he  said  again, — 

"  At  all  even-ts,  there  must  be  no  misun- 
derstanding between  us.  The  matter  at  stake 
is  to  me  too  tremendously  vital.  Is  it  your 
deliberate  purpose.  Miss  Lindisfarn,  to  com- 
municate to  me  in  answer  to  my  question, 
that  there  is  no  hope  for  me  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head  amid  continued  weep- 
ing, and  sobbed  out  the  words,  "  No  hope  ! 
No  hope  !  " 

"  No  hope,  either  now  or  in  the  future? 
If  there  is  any,  oh.  Miss  Lindisfarn,  give  me 
the  benefit  of  it,  in  pity !  " 

And  again  the  only  reply  was  the  same  sad 
shaking  of  the  head,  and  the  words,  "  None, 
none !  " 

"And  it  is  your  own  decision  that  you 
give  me,  not  that  of  any  other  person?" 
urged  Ellingham,  still  at  a  loss  to  conceive 
any  explanation  of  her  extraordinaiy  emo- 
tion. 

She  bowed  her  head  once,  looking  up  at 
him  with  streaming  eyes  ;  for  he  had  risen 
from  his  seat  on  the  rock,  and  was  now 
standing  in  front  of  her. 

"  Your  own  unbiassed  decision?"  he  re- 
iterated. 

"It  is  my  own  decision.  Nobody  has 
prompted  it.  Nobody  knows  anything  about 
it." 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"  And  is  there  no  hope  for  me  that  time 
may  produce  any  change  in  my  favor, — no 
hope  that  I  may  be  able  to  win  your  affection 
in  return  for — not  a  lightly  felt,  or  lightly 
given  love,  Miss  Lindisfarn  ?  " 

"Oh,  pray  leave  me,  Captain  Ellingham  ! 
I  cannot  say  anything  other  than  I  have 
said.     I  cannot !     Please  leave  me  !  " 

"But  how  can  I  leave  you  here  in  the 
state  of  agitation  in  which  you  appear  to  be, 
Miss  Lindisfarn  ?  " 

' '  Never  mind  !  It  is  very  foolish  of  me. 
But  please  leave  me  to  myself.  I  shall  re- 
cover my — myself  in  a  few  minutes  !  It  was 
the  surprise — and — my  great  sorrow  at  be- 
ing obliged  to  pain  you.  Captain  Ellingham. 
But— but— I  cannot  do  otherwise  ;  you  will, 
perhaps — no  !  I  was  only  going  to  say  that 
— that — it  must  be  as  I  have  said !  " 
"  And  I  must  leave  you  thus?  " 
"  Yes,  please.  Captain  Ellingham  !  I  shall 
be  better  presently,  and  will  then  walk  down 
to  the  house  by  myself." 

"  Good-by  then.  Miss  Lindisfarn.  I  have 
been  the  victim  of  a  <j;reat  mistake,  of  a  mon- 
strous and  blind  self-deluaion  !  Forgive  me 
for  the  annoyance  I  have  caused  you,  and  for, 
the  besotted  presumption  which  led  me  to  do 
it !  Farewell,  Miss  Lindisfirn,  and  may  God 
bless  you,  now  and  forever  !  " 

"  Farewell,  Captain  Ellingham  !  God  bless 
you  too!  I  pray  it  very  earnestly.  And 
think  as  little  hardly  of  me  as  you  can. 
Farewell !  " 

"  Think  hardly,  Miss  Lindisfarn  !  I  can 
put  no  interpretation  on  the  manner  in  which 
you  have  received  and  rejected  my  suit. 
That  some  reason  influences  you,  which  you 
do  not  judge  well  to  assign  to  me  is,  I  think, 
evident.  But  be  assured, — be  very  well  as- 
sured that  I  do  not  imagine,  and  never  shall 
or  can  imagine,  that  that  reason,  be  it  what  it 
may,  is  of  a  kind  to  shake  the  opinion,  that 
you  are — all  that  ray  great  love  has  believed 
you  to  be." 

And  with  those  words  he  turned  and  left 
the  top  of  the  rock  by  the  same  way  by 
which  he  had  climbed  it. 

Kate's  tears  gushed  out  afresh  as  he  left 
her,  sitting  in  the  place  from  which  she  had 
not  moved  during  the  whole  of  the  above 
conversation  ;  and  she  looked  out  eagerly 
through  them  to  catch  sight  of  him,  as  he 
1  came  round  the  base  of  the  rock,  on  his  way 


LINDISFARN    CHASE.  141 

down  tlic  hill  to^vard  the  house,  and  toward  |  acquaintance  with  it.     The  garden  had  as 
Silverton. 

But  she  was  disappointed ;  for  he  did  not 
come  round  the  rock,  nor  descend  by  that 
Bide  of  the  hill ;  and  Kate,  therefore,  saw 
him  no  more. 


CHAPTER  xxri. 

"ANOTHER  VERY   GOOD  WAT." — MRS.   GLASSE, 
passim. 

It  was  not  strictly  true,  as  has  been  said, 
that  Lady  Sempronia  expected  a  visit  from 
her  niece  Margaret  on  that  particular  morn- 
ing on  which  she  induced  the  somewhat  re- 
luctant Mr.  Mat  to  drive  her  over  to  Silver- 
ton.  Yet  it  was  quite  true  that  the  visit  was 
expected,  though  not  by  Lady  Sempronia. 
The  gentle  Margaret,  however,  had  found 
the  means  during  the  past  winter  of  making 
lierseM"  so  acceptable  to  her  aunt,  that  she 
was  always  glad  to  see  her.  And  when  upon 
this  occasion  she  arrived  from  Lindisfarn,  as 
was  usually  the  case,  before  the  canon  had 
returned  from  the  morning  service  at  the 
cathedral, — for  Mr.  Mat  in  the  gig  was  not 
so  long  getting  over  the  eight  miles  as  Thomas 
Tibbs  with  the  family  carriage  behind  him, — 
she  found  as  cordial  a  welcome  from  her  drab- 
colored  aunt,  sittlr.g  abac  iu  her  drab-col- 
ored drawing-room,  as  was  compatible  with 
the  nature  of  the  person  and  the  locality. 

Mr.  Mat,  it  is  to  be  understood,  did  not  come 
in  ;  but  dropping  Miss  Margaret  at  her  uncle's 
door,  went  away  to  his  own  affairs  ;  for  Mr. 
jSIat  entered  Lady  Sempronia's  doors  and  her 
]iresence,  to  tell  the  truth,  as  rarely  as  bien- 
seance  would  permit.  Probably,  after  put- 
ting up  the  gig  at  the  Lindisfarn  Arms,  he 
strolled  to  the  cathedral  and  lounged  in  the 
nave  till  the  Rev.  Mr.  Thorburn,  the  minor 
canon,  came  out  from  service,  and  then  ad- 
journed with  that  musical  dignitary  to  the 
house  of  little  Peter  Glenny,  the  organist. 

Margaret  found  her  aunt  a  shade  or  two 
worse  in  spirits  than  usual.  In  truth,  exist- 
ence and  the  world  in  general  had  but  a  fla- 
vorless, drab-colored,  washed-out  sort  of  ap- 
pearance, as  seen  from  the  Lady  Sempronia 's 
point  of  view,  it  must  be  admitted.  The  low- 
ceilinged,  drab-colored  drawing-room,  with  its 
worn-out  carpet  and  pale-brown  curtains 
and  faded  furniture,  had  not  on  that  March 
morning  the  cheerfulness  due  to  the  sunshine, 
and  the  beauty  of  the  garden  outside  its  win- 
dows, that  it  had  when  the  reader  first  made 


yet  but  little  beauty  ;  the  morning  was  raw 
and  chilly,  and  it  is  impossible  to  conceive 
anything  more  suggestive  of  ascetic  uncom- 
fortablcness  than  the  miserable  little  bit  ot 
half-extinguished  fire,  which,  contained  in 
some  wretched  contrivance  for  rendering  the 
proper  proportions  of  the  grate  abortive,  oc- 
cupied the  middle  of  Lady  Sempronia's  fire- 
place. She  was  sitting,  when  Margaret  en- 
tei-ed,  in  the  centre  of  a  large,  deep,  old-fash- 
ioned sofa, — one  of  that  kind  which  show  no 
portion  of  uncovered  wood  in  any  part  of 
them  ;  and  was  engaged  in  manufacturing 
out  of  balls  of  white  bobbin  a  small  square  of 
network,  destined  to  be  pinned  against  the 
back  of  one  of  the  drab-colored  arm-chairs, 
rather  for  the  concealment  of  its  dilapida- 
tions than  the  protection  of  its  magnificence. 

A  litter  of  books  upon  the  table,  even  if 
the  inmate  does  not  read  them,  suggests  the 
possibility  of  doing  so,  and  the  idea  of  the 
companionship  of  other  minds.  A  clock 
ticking  audibly  on  the  mantelpiece  is  not  an 
incitement  to  uproarious  gayety,  but  it  at 
least  conveys  an  impression  of  homeliness  and 
lifci,  A  eat  on  the  hearthstone,  again,  is  far 
bettts:  than  the  clock,  and  contributes  much 
toward  mitigating  the  horrors  of  such  a  po- 
sition as  that  of  Lady  Sempronia.  But  she 
had  none  of  these  alleviations,  and  as  she 
sat  there  upright  in  the  middle  of  the  great 
sofa,  placed  at  right  angles  to  the  almost 
empty  grate,  and  opposite  to  the  window 
looking  into  the  sunless  and  flowerless  gar- 
den, in  the  midst  of  the  tomblike  stillness  of 
the  colorless  drawing-room,  it  is  hardly  sur- 
prising if  the  world  in  general  presented  it- 
self to  her  view  as  a  vale  of  tears,  and  on  the 
whole  as  a  melancholy  mistake  and  failure. 
It  is  intelligible  that  under  such  circumstances 
the  arrival  of  Miss  Margaret  should  have  been 
felt  by  her  aunt  to  be  a  not  unwelcome  re- 
lief. 

Lady  Sempronia  had,  moreover,  a  special 
trial  to  lament  over  on  the  morning  in  ques- 
tion. This,  indeed,  was  generally  the  case  ; 
but  on  the  present  occasion  it  was  a  matter 
that  had  particularly  tried  her  temper. 

"  My  position,  you  see,  my  dear,"  she  re- 
marked to  her  sympathizing  niece,  after  the 
usual  condolences  which  constituted  the  Lady 
Sempronia's  mode  of  greeting  and  welcoming, 
"  is  one  of  peculiar  hardship  and  difiiculty. 
Your  uncle,  without  being  (juiie  far  enough 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


142 

p;one  to  be  put  under  restraint,  is  neverthe- 
less fully  as  incapable  of  managing  his  own 
affairs,  or  of  conducting  himself  with  ordi- 
nary propriety  as  most  of  those  who  are  so." 

"  It  is  a  very  vexatious  position,  dear 
aunt !  " 

"  Ah,  my  dear  !  If  you  only  knew  half  of 
what  I  have  to  go  through  !  There  was  yes- 
terday evening  !  I  do  assure  you  it  was  one 
of  the  most  painful  trials  that  could  be  in- 
flicted upon  a  right-minded  person!  " 

"  What  was  it,  aunt?  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear  !  Such  a  scene!  so  pain- 
ful !  We  had  a  few  friends  to  dine  with  us ; 
the  doctor's  doing,  as  usual.  I  know  too 
well  that  our  means  do  not  justify  us  in  en- 
tering into  such  expenses.  We  might  do  so, 
of  course,  with  perfect  comfort  and  propriety 
even,  if  the  money  were  not  all  flung  away 
on  the  most  futile  absurdities.  But,  as  I  say 
to  Dr.  Lindisfarn,  you  cannot  burn  the  can- 
dle at  two  ends  at  once.  You  cannot  give 
dinners  and  print  monographs,  both." 

"  That  is  very  true,  dear  aunt  I  "  said  Mar- 
garet, shaking  her  head  sympathetically. 

"But  the  doctor  thinks  differently,"  pur- 
sued the  faded  lady,  with  a  deep  sigh  ;  "  and 
he  would  have  me  invite  people  to  dine  here 
yesterday  ;  the  dean  and  Mrs.  Barton,  Dr. 
Blakistry,  the  Polstons  from  Sillmouth,  and 
one  or  two  others  ;  quite  enough  to  carry  the 
story  of  what  they  saw  all  over  the  country." 

"What  was  it?"  asked  Margaret,  with 
an  awakening  of  real  curiosity. 

"Oh,  my  dear!  We  had  all  gone  in 
to  the  dining-room;  the  dean  took  me,  of 
course,  and  the  rest  came  in  as  they  chose  ; 
for  the  doctor  was  not  there.  He  never  will 
do  anything  like  other  people  !  and  gener- 
ally when  there  are  any  people  here  he  joins 
us  in  the  dining-room.  AVell,  my  dear,  dear 
Margaret !  We  were  all  in  our  places  round 
the  table.  Sanders  said  the  doctor  was  com- 
ing, and  was  holding  the  door  open  for  him. 
We  all  paused  a  minute,  still  standing  to 
wait  for  him,  when — oh,  my  dear  child  !  I 
shall  ncvev,  never  forget  that  moment !  In 
walked  your  uncle.  1  could  see  by  the  look 
of  his  eye  in  a  minute  that  he  had  no  more 
idea  of  where  he  was,  or  what  he  Avas  doing 
than  a  stark  staring  Bedlamite — up  he  walked 
to  his  place  at  the  bottom  of  the  table  with 
the  same  sort  of  step  he  has,  you  know,  when 
he  is  walking  up  the  nave  with  his  surplice 
on,  and — and — down  he  went  on  his  knees, 


and  put  his  face  into  his  soup-plate,  as  if  it 
were  his  trencher-cap !  Oh,  Margaret  !  I 
thought  I  should  have  dropped  where  I  stood  ! 
The  dean  behaved  very  well ;  but  I  saw  Mrs. 
Barton  give  him  a  look  across  the  table. 
Then  we  all  sat  down ;  and  I  was  in  hopes 
that  that  would  have  recalled  him  to  himself, 
and  to  some  decent  sense  of  the  proprieties  of 
the  time  and  place.  But  not  a  bit  of  it ! 
Presently  he  stood  up,  and  looked  round  the 
table  in  a  calm  and  dignified  sort  of  w^ay,  as 
much  as  to  ask  why  the  service  didn't  begin. 
And  that  vulgar,  coarse  wretch,  Minor  Canon 
Thorburn,  who  was  sitting  near  the  bottom 
of  the  table,  called  out  in  his  great  chanting 
voice, '  Not  a  bit  of  it,  doctor !  I  have  chanted 
the  service  twice  this  day,  and  I'm  not  going 
to  begin  it  again  !  '  and  that  brought  him 
to  :  '  Ah  !  bless  my  soul !  '  said  he,  '  dinner- 
time !  so  it  is !  Thorburn  and  I  make  it 
straight  between  us.  He  thinks  he  is  else- 
where, sometimes,  when  he  is  in  church  ;  I 
think  I  am  in  church  when  I  ought  to  be 
eating  my  dinner  !  '  And  then  there  was  a 
tittering  all  round.  But  what  provokes  me 
past  bearing  is  that  your  uncle  takes  all  such 
things  as  coolly  and  calmly  as  if  he  were  do- 
ing everything  he  ought  to  do  !  He  was  not 
embarrassed,  not  he  !  He  has  no  sense  of 
shame  !  " 

"  It  is  very  sad,"  sighed  Margaret ;  "  and, 
aunt  dear,  talking  of  that,  I  think  I  had  bet- 
ter go  into  the  study,  before  uncle  comes 
home  from  the  cathedral,  to  put  away  a  few 
of  the  remaining  copies  of  the  '  Memoir  on  the 
'City  Walls.'  He  has  given  awayseveral  cop- 
ies lately,  and  there  are  only  a  few  left ;  and 
if  they  run  out  alto'^ether,  he  will  be  sure  to 
reprint  it.  You  kn.jW  he  never  objects  to  my 
being  among  his  books  ;  and  I  meant  to  hide 
a  few  copies  of  the  "  Town  Walls  "  behind 
'  Grose's  Antiquities.'  All  the  space  behind 
'  Slawkingham's  History  of  Sillshire  '  is  filled 
with  are  serve  store  of  the  '  Monograph  on  the 
Horseshoe  Arches  at  Parbury-in-the-Moor,' 
which  is  particularly  bad  for  him  to  give 
away  because  of  the  colored  plate  at  the  be- 
ginning !" 

It  will  be  perceived,  that  Margaret  had 
not  only  acquired  a  perfect  understanding  of 
the  home  politics  of  Lady  Sempronia's  house- 
hold, but  had  made  herself  very  intelligently  ■ 
useful  in  forwarding  that  much-tried  lady's 
views.  When  alone  with  her  uncle,  she  had 
no  scruple  in  pouring  oil  on  the  fire  of  hia 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


antiquarian  zeal  to  the  utmost  extent  tliat 
liov  ignorance  of  everytliing  connected  with 
the  Bubject  would  allow.  And  when  ahc 
found  herself  in  the  somewhat  more  difficult 
circumstance  of  being  present  at  any  difl'cr- 
encc  of  opinion  between  her  uncle  and  aunt, 
she  was  wont  to  extricate  herself  from  tlic 
difficulty  by  a  masterly  silence,  dropping  her 
silken  lashes  over  her  downcast  eyes,  with  an 
expression  that  deplored  the  existence  of  a 
diflerence,  and  permitted  either  party  to  feel 
how  deeply  she  lamented  the  perversity  and 
obstinacy  of  the  other. 

"  Do,  my  dear  !  Go  into  the  study.  You 
have  not  above  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before 
the  service  will  be  over.  I  am  sure  it  is  a 
comfort  to  have  any  one  in  the  house  who  so 
thoroughly  understands  all  the  trials  I  have 
to  go  through." 

So  ^largaret  left  her  aunt  to  her  knitting, 
or  knotting,  or  netting,  or  whatever  the 
proper  term  is  to  describe  the  fabrication  of 
the  reticulated  fabric  on  which  she  was  en- 
gaged, and  betook  herself  to  her  uncle's 
study.  But  having  entered  that  sanctum  and 
carefully  closed  the  door,  and  having  taken 
at  random  some  half-dozen  volumes  from  the 
shelves  and  placed  them  on  the  floor,  she  ap- 
peared to  be  suddenly  called  away  from  her 
librarian-like  avocation  to  other  cares.  First 
of  all  she  tripped  with  a  step  that  would 
hardly  have  bent  the  grass-blades  beneath  it, 
had  her  tripping  been  in  a  meadow,  to  the 
window, — not  that  looking  into  the  garden, 
but  the  opposite  one  at  the  otiier  end  of  the  room 
looking  into  the  Close, — and  carefully  drawing 
aside  as  much  of  the  muslin  curtain  which 
hung  before  it  as  would  enable  her  to  peep 
out  from  the  side  of  it,  in  a  direction  which 
commanded  the  road  leading  towards  the 
door  of  the  cathedral,  she  gazed  for  half  a 
minute,  and,  apparently  satisfied,  dropped 
the  curtain.  Then  holding  back  the  folds  of 
her  pretty  lilac  silk  dress  with  both  exqui- 
sitely gloved  hands,  she  put  out  first  one  and 
then  the  other  slender  foot,  cased  in  bronze 
colored  morocco  bottincs,  the  admirable  fitting 
of  which  showed  off  the  arching  of  the  in- 
step to  the  greatest  advantage.  Both  were 
subjected  to  a  close  scrutiny,  and  neither  was 
found  to  be  quite  free  from  dust,  while  on 
the  heel  of  one  appeared  a  slight  splash.  So 
the  pretty  examiner  darted  across  the  room 
to  a  drawer  under  the  slielves  in  one  corner 
of  the  library,  and  sharply  pulling  it  open, 


143 

took  from  it  a  duster,  which  the  doctor  kept 
there  for  the  behoof  of  his  books,  and  has- 
tily set  to  work  to  repair  the  miscliief  her 
scrutiny  had  discovered.  This  liappily  ac- 
complished, she  again  returned  to  the  win- 
dow, and  again  satisfied  herself  that  there 
was  nobody  yet  coming  across  from  the  ca- 
tliedral.  Just  opposite  to  the  door,  and  be- 
hind the  lay  figure,  which  has  been  mentioned 
in  a  former  chapter  as  a  device  of  Dr.  Lin- 
disfarn's  for  reminding  him  to  take  off  his 
surplice  on  returning  from  the  choir,  there 
was  a  small  square  toilet  glass  hung  against 
the  panelled  wall,  intended  for  the  doctor's 
service  iq  robing,  though  ministering  but 
little  to  the  correctness  of  his  appearance  by 
its  hints.  It  was  now,  however,  consulted 
by  a  more  docile  pupil.  Having  put  all  into 
perfect  order  at  one  extremity  of  her  person, 
Margaret  now  gave  her  attention  to  the 
other.  The  edges  of  the  dark  bands  of  glossy 
hair  on  her  brow  had  to  be  just  a  little  re- 
touched ;  the  ribbons  of  the  pretty  bonnet  to 
be  readjusted  beneath  the  chin  ;  and  the  set 
of  that  chef-cVceuvre  itself  somewhat  modi- 
fied. All  this  was  done  with  a  rapid  and 
sure  hand  ;  the  result  was  approved  by  one 
intent  and  searching  but  all  too  transient 
glance  ; — a  second  was  devoted  to  an  equally 
rapid  dress-rehearsal  of  a  small  but  exceed- 
ingly effective  pantomime  representation  by 
the  eycb  themselves  ;  and  then  the  charming 
performer  flitted  back  to  her  post  of  observa- 
tion at  the  corner  of  the  window  looking  on 
the  Close. 

Was  ever  such  preparation  made  before 
by  a  dutiful  niece  for  receiving  an  elderly 
uncle,  and  that  uncle  a  canon  returning  from 
morning  service  at  his  cathedral ! 

In  a  very  few  minutes  she  dropped  the 
muslin  curtain  from  her  fingers,  as  if  it  had 
suddenly  burned  her ;  a  bright  look  of  satis- 
faction came  over  her  face,  tlic  blood  mounted 
to  her  fair  cheeks  just  sufficiently  to  tinge 
the  cream-colored  satin  of  them  with  the 
delicate  hue  of  a  pale  hedge-rose,  and  her 
eyes  were  lighted  up  with  the  brilliancy  of 
animation,  as  she  tripped  back  to  the  place 
in  the  bookshelves  from  which  she  had  re- 
moved the  volumes  to  the  floor,  and  took  one 
of  the  books  in  her  hand.  In  the  next  min- 
ute the  doctor,  having  let  himself  in  with  his 
latchkey,  opened  the  door  of  the  study,  and 
was  heard  saying, — 

"Come  in,   come   in,   Mr.   Falconer!     I 


144 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


shall  have  much  pleasure  in  showing  you  the 
volume.  What,  Margaret,  you  here?  De- 
lighted to  see  you,  my  dear !  " 

"  I  was  at  my  old  work  among  your  books, 
you  see,  uncle ;  but  1  did  not  intend  to  get 
caught  playing  the  librarian  by  any  one  but 
you.  Mr.  Mat  was  coming  in  this  morning, 
so  I  begged  a  place  in  the  gig." 

"  And  I  little  thought  of  the  pleasure  that 
was  in  store  for  me,  when  I  walked  with  you 
across  the  Close,  doctor !  "  said  Falconer. 

His  eyes  and  Margaret's  had  already  met 
and  exchanged  intelligent  greeting  and  con- 
gratulations on  the  success  of  the  lie  that 
each  was  telling. 

The  unsuspicious  canon  proceeded  mean- 
while to  disrobe  himself  and  robe  his  lay 
i-epresentative,  or  as  the  Rev.  Minor  Canon 
Thorburn  (more  generally  called,  out  of 
church.  Jack  Thorburn)  used  to  say  with 
ever  new  felicitousness  on  every  occasion, 
turn  him  from  a  lay  into  a  clerical  figure  ; 
while  the  two  young  people  shook  hands, 
with  laughing,  conscious  eyes. 

"  How  good  this  is  of  you  !  You  certainly 
are  the  best  as  well  as  the  loveliest  girl  that 
ever  breathed  !  Had  you  any  difBculty  about 
the  gig?"  whispered  Falconer. 

"  Yes,  indeed  I  had  !  That  old  brute,  Mr. 
Mat,  after  oifering  to  ride  with  Kate,  pre- 
tended to  have  business  to  do,  when  I  asked 
him  to  drive  me  in  ;  and  then  told  me  in  so 
many  words,  that  I  was  mere  dirt  compared 
to  her — the  atrocious  old  savage  !  I  wouldn't 
have  stooped  to  ask  him,  or  be  driven  by  him, 
if  it  had  not  been  for  " —  and  her  magnificent 
eyes  said  the  rest  far  more  eloquently  than 
the  most  silver  tongue  could  have  done. 

"  The  old  savage  !  And  to  think  of  your 
having  exposed  yourself  to  such  annoyan- 
ces"—  and  Mr.  Freddy  also  concluded  his 
phrase  by  the  same  medium  of  communi- 
cation,— creditably,  yet  not  in  the  same  style 
that  Margaret  did  it.  She  certainly  had  the 
finest  and  most  expressive  eyes  that  ever  were 
seen  in  a  human  head.  They  were  so  beauti- 
ful, so  tender,  so  eloquent !  They  could  look 
anytliing — save  honest. 

"  And  now,  sir,  that  the  object  has  been 
served,  I  do  not  mean  to  play  librarian  any 
longer.  So  you  may  put  these  horrid  old 
books  back  in  their  places.  I  am  afraid  I 
have  soiled  my  gloves  with  them  as  it  is  !  " 
said  IMargaret,  holding  out  the  tips  of  her 
taper  fingers  for  his  inspection  in  a  provoca- 


tive manner  that  made  it  absolutely  necessary 
for  Freddy  to  assist  in  the  process  by  subject- 
ing each  separate  digit  to  manipulation  and 
minute  investigation. 

"  What  exquisite  gloves  !  Paris  of  course. 
Well,  I  do  think  there  is  nothing  more  beauti- 
ful in  nature  than  a  beautiful  hand — when 
one  sees  it  to  perfection,"  added  Fred,  as, 
after  satisfying  himself  that  the  books  had 
done  little  or  no  mischief,  he  contemplated 
Margaret's  hand,  while  the  extreme  tips  of 
its  fingers  were  supported  by  the  extreme  tips 
of  his. 

"  Come,  attend  to  your  work  !  Put  the 
books  back  again  into  their  places,"  said 
Margaret. 

"Can't  we  get  away  into  the  garden?" 
whispered  Falconer,  as  he  did  so. 

"  He  will  drive  us  away  in  a  minute," 
returned  Margaret,  in  the  same  voice  ;  "  you'll 
see  !  " 

"  I  think  I  have  finished  my  task  for  to- 
day, uncle,"  she  continued,  as  the  doctor, 
having  got  rid  of  his  canonicals,  came  up  the 
room  from  the  further  end  near  the  door  to 
his  accustomed  corner  by  the  fire,  and  behind 
the  screen  of  books,  that  has  been  described 
as  nearly  dividing  the  room  into  two;  "I 
thought  I  should  just  have  time  before  you 
came  back  from  church  to  finish  putting  the 
'Bampton  Lectures,'  on  this  shelf  in  the  proper 
order  according  to  their  dates." 

"Thank  you,  my  dear!  And  now  you 
must  run  away  to  your  aunt ;  for  I  am  going 
to  be  very  busy.  Mr.  Falconer,  Lady  Sem- 
pronia  will  be  delighted  to  see  you  in  the 
drawing-room.  See,  here  is  the  volume  we 
were  speaking  of.  You  can  send  it  back  to 
me  when  you  have  done  with  it. 

So  the  doctor  was  left  in  possession  of  his 
study. 

"  Can't  we  get  away  into  the  garden?" 
said  Falconer  again,  as  they  crossed  the  hall 
together  toward  the  drawing-room. 

"  We  must  speak  to  my  aunt  first,-"  re- 
turned Margaret,  opening  the  drawing-room 
door  as  she  spoke. 

"  Uncle  has  been  insisting,"  said  she,  as 
soon  as  Fred  had  saluted  Lady  Sempronia, 
"  on  my  showing  Mr.  Falconer  that  point  in 
the  corner  of  your  garden  from  which  the 
old  keep  tower  is  visible.  I  don't  suppose 
he  cares  much  to  see  it ;  but  que  voulcz  vous  ? 
I  must  do  as  I  am  bid  !  "  And  the  wonder- 
ful eyes  in  two  consecutive  seconds  claimed 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


auiniration  and  gratitude  from  Falconer  for 
the  ready  lie,  and  exchanged  condolences 
with  her  aunt  on  the  boredom  of  her  uncle's 
antiquarianisui. 

"  Come,  Mr.  Falconer,"  she  continued, 
"  come  and  see  the  tower  as  it  appears  from 
the  Close  gardens." 

So  they  escaped  into  the  garden,  and  were 
soon  arm  in  arm,  in  a  sheltered  walk  under 
the  old  city  wall,  which  there  formed  also 
the  boundary  of  the  canon's  garden,  and 
which  was  very  near  the  spot  from  which  in 
fact  the  keep-tower  was  visible. 

One  would  have  said  that  ^largaret  had 
schemed  with  right  good-will  to  secure  this 
telc-a-lele  with  Falconer  ;  and  yet,  now  the 
object  was  attained,  all  the  abundant  cheer- 
fulness and  good-humor  which  had  been  so 
apparent  but  a  minute  ago,  seemed  at  once 
to  have  deserted  her,  and  a  pensive  melan- 
cholj-  had  suddenly  supervened  in  their  place ; 
even  as  the  face  of  the  landscape  is  changed 
when  the  sun  is  hidden  behind  a  cloud. 
The  fine  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  ground, 
or  raised  only  from  time  to  time  to  glance 
for  a  moment  with  an  expression  of  gentle 
sadness  on  his  face.  She  answered  him  in 
monosyllables,  and  his  most  insinuating  com- 
pliments were  onl}'  answered  with  a  sigh. 

In  short,  it  became  absolutely  necessary  for 
him  to  inquire  very  tendei'ly  what  it  was 
that  had  damped  her  spirits  ;  had  he  had  the 
inexpressible  misfortune  of  offending  her? 

In  all  probability  Islv.  Fred  Falconer  un- 
derstood perfectly  well  what  the  matter  was  ; 
and  interpreted  the  signs  hung  out  to  him 
with  an  accuracy  and  readiness  which  made 
all  further  conversation  on  the  subject  super- 
fluous ;  for  kindred  spirits  understand  one 
another  rapidly  in  these  cases.  Neverthe- 
less, it  was  necessary  that  the  little  comedy, 
in  which  these  two  talented  performers  were 
engaged,  should  be  duly  performed. 

"No,"  returned  Margaret,  looking  stead- 
ily at  the  gravel  walk,  and  picking  leaf  from 
leaf  a  rose,  which  she  had  gathered  from  the 
creeping  plant  that  almost  covered  the  old 
gray  wall,  while  she  let  the  pink  petals  fall 
one  after  another,  according  to  the  usual 
stage  directions  provided  for  auch  circum- 
stances— "  No  ;  you  have  neither  done  nor 
said  anything  to  offend  me"  (just  the 
sliglitest  emphasis  upon  the  two  verbs); 
"  I  should  be  very  ungrateful  for  much  kind- 

10 


145 


ness,  if  1  were  to  say  or  think  so,  Mr.  Fal- 
coner;  but" — (eyes,  which  had  been  raised 
for  a  second  with  one  expressive  glance  at 
the  words  much  kindness,  here  glued  to  the 
gravel  more  determinedly  than  ever) . 

"  But  what,  my  dear  Miss  Lindisfarn  ? 
What  was  to  have  followed  that  little  hesi- 
tating but,  so  all  important  to  me  ?  " 

"Is  it  so  important  to  you?"  (Half  a 
glance  from  corner  of  eye  in  state  of  lique- 
faction ;  extreme  tenderness  and  the  purest 
candid  naivete  in  equal  proportions  thrown 
into  the  voice.)  "  Can  I  flatter  myself  that 
it  is  so  ?  " 

"  Surely,  my  dear  Miss  Lindisfarn,  surely 
you  must  know,  that  all  that  coneerns  your 
happiness  is  so  to  me  !  "  (Intense  pathos. 
Pause  on  the  gravel  walk.  Gentleman  moves 
slightly  in  front  of  lady,  and  very  timidly 
lays  fingers  of  right  hand  on  back  of  glove 
engaged  in  picking  the  rose  to  pieces.  Ap- 
pealing glance,  only  to  be  attempted  in  case 
of  handsome  eyes.) 

"  Is  what  to  you?  I  do  not  quite  under- 
stand you."  said  Margaret,  taking  prompt 
advantage  of  her  companion's  imperfect 
grammatical  consti'uction,  and  at  the  same 
time  very  slightly,  and  as  if  unconsciously, 
withdrawing  her  hand. 

"Nay,  you  know  what  I  would  say! 
There  is  something  which  weighs  on  your 
spirits  !  You  may  hide  it  from  others, — but 
do  you  think.  Miss  Lindisfarn,  that  it  can  be 
concealed  from  me?  Whatever  your  trouble 
may  be,  can  you  not  confide  it  to  me?  Mar — 
Oh,  forgive  me,  Miss  Lindisfarn  !  I — I — 
I  forgot  myself!  That  sweet,  dear  name! 
]Marguerite  !  [Mai/  I  dare — may  I  call  you 
Marguerite?" 

(This  is  an  important  point  in  the  play  ; 
and  according  to  the  rules  of  this  Royal 
Game  of  Goose,  you  stop  three  turns  for  the 
eyes  to  exchange  a  glance,  to  which  Bur- 
leigh's nod  was  as  a  sixpenny  pamphlet  to 
a  Blue  Book  of  the  biggest  dimensions.  If 
the  lady  player  be  sure  of  herself,  and  knows 
what  she  is  about,  she  may  make  the  look 
steady  and  fixed  for  five  seconds,  and  make  it 
up  of  fluttered  tenderness  three  parts,  gently 
reproachful  pathos  two  parts,  and  ingenuous 
surprise — be  careful  about  the  quality  of  this 
last  article — one  part,  dissolved  in  two  drops 
0^  lachryma  fura.  N.  B.  A  larger  quantity 
of  the  liquid  vehicle  would  injure  the  opera- 


146 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


tion.  A  gentle  heaving  of  the  bosom  may 
be  judiciously  thrown  in.  Exhibited  in  this 
form,  the  effect  is  wonderful.) 

Margaret  made  up  the  dose  with  admira- 
ble and  unerring  skill,  and  administered  it 
■with  prompt  decision. 

"  Yes  !  I  think  it  is  a  pretty  name,"  she 
said,  dropping  her  eyes  as  soon  as  they  hud 
performed  the  operation,  "  and  it  is  sweet  to 
hear  it  from  the  lips  of  those  who —  But  I 
don't  know  if  I  dare  tell  you.  I  don't  know 
if  I  am  doing  right.  I  cannot  tell  how  you 
may  judge  me  "  (emphasis  delicate,  and  not 
too  strong  on  the  pronoun),  "  if  I  venture  to 
make  the  confidence  you  ask." 

"  Can  you  doubt  that — Marguerite  ?  "  said 
Falconer  with  an  ardent  glance,  and  uttering 
the  name  as  if  he  had  received  a  sharp  blow 
on  the  second  button  of  his  waistcoat,  at  the 
moment  it  issued  from  his  lips.  He  was  do- 
*iug  his  best ;  but  the  fact  is,  that  he  was  a 
very  inferior  performer  to  the  lady. 

"  I  do  think  I  may  trust  you  to  put  a  kind 
construction  on  my  venturing  to  toll  you," 
said  she,  with  a  little  gush,  most  delicately 
^nd  artistically  hit  off.  In  fact,  the  two  or 
three  last  plunges,  which  the  fine  fish  on  her 
hook  had  been  making,  showed  her  that  the 
moment  had  come  for  winding  up  line  rap- 
idly ;  "  I  do  think  I  may  venture.  You  are 
so  good,  so  kind,  so  indulgent  I  The  fact  is — 
I  have  been  blamed — cruelly  blamed  and  mis- 
judged— oh  !  how  can  I  tell  it  you  ? — Those 
I  live  among  are  not  all  as  kind  to  me  as  you 
are,  Mr.  Falconer !  Cruel,  wicked  things 
have  been  said  about  me  in  connection  with 
you  !  I  am  accused  of — of — oh  !  how  can  I 
say  it? — of  allowing  you  to  occupy  too  much 
of  my  attention  ! — of  giving  occasion  to  the 
coupling  our  names  together  by  the  world. 
And  I  am  told  that  I  must  be  more  cir — cir 
— circum — spect !  Oh,  it  is  very  hard  ! — 
very  cruel !  " 

And  here  the  lovely  creature's  cup  of  sor- 
row was  too  full !  It  brimmed  over  !  She 
was  sobbing — not  aloud,  for  it  was  possible 
that  her  uncle's  study  window  might  be 
open  ;  possible  also  that  the  gardener  might 
be  within  earshot ;  but  still  very  unmistak- 
ably sobbing. 

Falconer  had  not  been  paying  all  the  atten- 
tion to  the  touchingly-broken  utterances  of 
this  address  which  the  admirable  method  of 
its  delivery  deserved.  The  only  excuse  for 
him  was  that  he  perfectly  well  knew  what 


she  was  going  to  say  before  she  began  ;  and 
that  the  moments  occupied  by  the  speaking 
of  it  were  exceedingly  necessary  to  him  for 
the  taking  of  such  a  rapid  and  masterly  sur- 
vey of  the  general  situation  as  should  enable 
him  to  decide  promptly  yet  prudently  on  his 
immediate  course  of  action. 

The  fact  was  that  he  had  not  intended  to 
make  a  direct  and  formal  offer  of  his  hand 
to  Miss  Lindisfarn  on  that  day.  It  was  not 
that  he  at  all  wavered  in  his  determination 
of  doing  so,  or  had  any  thought  of  swerving 
from  the  line  of  conduct  he  had  on  mature 
deliberation  traced  out  for  himself  in  the 
preceding  autumn,  and  had  been  conscien- 
tiously laboring  to  carry  out  all  the  winter. 
Far  from  it !  But  he  was  both  by  nature  and 
by  training  a  cautious  man.  It  was  a  golden 
rule  of  life  with  him  "  Not  to  put  his  arm 
out  farther  than  he  could  draw  it  back 
again."  And  might  he  not  be  about  to  do 
so?  "Never  set  your  name  to  a  contract, 
Fred,  a  minute  before  it  is  necessary  to  do 
so,"  his  father  had  often  said  to  him.  And 
now  the  still  voice  of  paternal  wisdom  whiis- 
pered  in  his  heart.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand, 
"  Strike  while  the  iron  is  hot,"  was  a  good 
maxim  too.  And  it  did  seem  to  his  best 
judgment,  that  the  iron  was  quite  hot  now. 
It  was  good  thrift,  surely,  to  make  hay  while 
the  sun  shone  !  And  when  could  it  shine 
more  brightly  than  at  the  present  moment  ? 
And  might  it  not  be  possible  to  combine  the 
advantages  of  both  the  opposing  systems? 
Might  not  this  feat  of  ability  be  attainable 
by  a  judicious  and  bold  dexterity?  Fred 
thought  that  it  might.  And  all  these 
thoughts  had  passed  in  his  master  mind, 
and  his  decision  had  been  taken  by  the  time 
Margaret  had  got  to  the  end  of  her  delicately 
confidential  communication.  He  had  decided 
on  stretching  out  his  arm  ;  but  not  so  that, 
if  some  possible,  though  highly  improbable, 
contingency  should  make  it  desirable,  he 
should  be  unable  to  draw  it  back.  Was  he 
after  all  irrevocal)ly  putting  his  name  to  a 
contract,  by  words  uttered  only  to  one  pair 
of  ears  ?  So  he  said,  "  Base  and  unmanly  !  " 
grinding  the  words  between  his  clinched 
teeth  ;  "  it  is  the  penalty  which  hearts  that 
can  feel  pay  to  the  jealousy  of  the  colder 
natures  which  cannot  sympathize  with 
them  I  "  (Freddy  was  fond  of  that  sentence, 
and  set  it  down  in  fair  round-hand  text  in 
his  private  journal— it  ia  to  be  hoped  not  for 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


future  use.)  "  You  must  know,  dear— dear- 
est Marpjuerite," — here  he  took  her  hand, 
which  she  did  not  this  time  witlidraw, — she 
knew  that  slie  was  en  regie.,  and  that  the 
game  was  now  in  her  own  hands — '•  that 
your  happiness  and  peace  of  mind  are  dearer 
to  me  than  my  own  !  If  you  do  not  know 
it,  will  you  helicve  it?  Will  you  suffer  me 
to  persuade  you  that  it  is  so, — will  you  give 
me  this  little  hand,  and  with  it  the  right  to 
defend  you  against  all,  or  any,  who  may  dare 
to  breathe  a  word  against  you  ?  Marguerite, 
best,  loveliest, — may  I  say  dearest.  Margue- 
rite ?  may  I  say  my  Mai-guerite  V  "  (voice  sud- 
denly dropped  to  exquisitely  tender  whisper. ) 
Dead  silence  ;  a  little  vibrating  tremor 
commencing  in  the  charmingly  gloved  hand 
he  now  held  in  both  of  his,  gradually  com- 
municated itself  to  her  whole  person.  Then 
two  little  sobs,  barely  moi-e  than  sighs  ;  and 
all  executed  witli  faultless  perfection.  (N.  B. 
— Tliis  passage  had  better  not  be  attempted 
by  beginners.  If  not  handled  with  consum- 
mate tact,  it  would  be  a  failure.  It  is  true 
that  Margaret  was  making  her  debut.  But 
inborn  genius  sets  aside  all  rules  !) 

"Oh,  rapture!  Am  I  then,  indeed,  the 
happiest  man  who  breathes  this  day  ?  " 

This  appeal  produced  a  quivering  but  very 
decided  pressure  of  the  little  lilac-gloved 
hand. 

(This  may  be  very  safely  executed  by  any 
one  ;  and  those  who  feel  that  they  ought  not 
to  venture  on  the  more  difficult  business  de^ 
scribed  in  the  former  paragraph  had  better 
proceed  at  once  to  this  part  of  the  exercise.) 
"  Look  up,  my  sweet  one!  Give  me  one 
look  of  those  divine  eyes  !  Speak  to  me,  my 
Marguerite !  " 

She  did  give  him  a  look.  And  upon  my 
word,  it  almost  threw  his  double-entry  heart  ofiF 
its  balance,  and  tumbled  him  into  earnestness. 
Juliet  and  Ophelia  blended  in  one,  were  in 
the  look  of  those  large,  soft  eyes  !  She  knew 
in  her  heart  at  the  moment  that  that  look 
was  unnecessary  ;  that  she  had  won  her  game 
without  it.  But  she  was  carried  away  by 
the  spirit  of  her  part.  It  was  the  love  of  the 
consummate  artist  for  her  art — the  irresisti- 
ble impulse  of  true  genius  to  revel  in  the  per- 
fection of  its  own  ideal ! 

The  "look,"  which  Frederick  had  asked 
for,  had  been  accorded  him  in  such  measure 
that  he  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  press  his  I 


147 

further  ;  but  would  have  been  contented  to 
assume  that  his  proposal  was  accepted,  and 
to  carry  on  the  remainder  of  the  interview  in 
the  tone  suggested  to  his  imagination  by  the 
eloquence  of  Margaret's  look.  But  this  did 
not  suit  the  lady's  views.  The  business  part 
of  the  meeting  was  not  completed  yet  iu  her 
estimation  ;  and  till  it  should  be  so,  she  was, 
in  accordance  with  the  good  old  saw,  in  no 
wise  minded  to  come  to  the  play.  So  drop- 
ping once  more  the  victorious  eyes  beneath 
their  heavy  lids  and  long  lashes,  she  whis- 
pei-ed , — 

"You  bid  me  speak  to  you,  Frederick! 
What  can  I  say,  save  that  I  am  your  own, — 
yours   only,  yours  ever,  through  good  and 


And  as  she  spoke,  she  let  her  hand  rest  in 
his,  looking  into  his  face  with  an  expression 
of  expectation  and  waiting  for  something, 
that  imperatively  demanded  of  him  a  simi- 
larly categorical  and  solemn  declaration. 

"My  own  sweet  Marguerite!  How  can 
I  find  words  to  say  how  entirely,  how  devot- 
edly, I  am  yours?  " 

"  Mine,  Frederick,  forever,  come  weal  come 
woe  !  "  she  said,  clasping  her  hands  together, 
and  looking  up  into  his  face  with  an  intensity 
of  tenderness  and  solemnity  combined,  that 
made  Freddy  feel  as  if  every  possibility  of  re- 
treat was  being  cut  off  behind  him  ; — pre- 
cisely, in  short,  as  she  intended  that  he  should 
feel. 

Nevertheless,  though  the  man  could  not 
but  be  affected  by  the  tender  earnestness  of 
the  lovely  creature  by  his  side,  the  spirit  of 
the  man  of  business  so  far  rallied  as  to  whis- 
per to  him  that,  after  all,  these  fine  words 
were  words  only,  unheard,  unwitnessed  !  It 
was  all  right,  no  doubt.  But  ?/any  hitch — 
why — 

It  was  singular,  however,  and  surely  an 
evidence  of  their  fitness  for  each  other,  that 
similar  thoughts  were  at  that  very  instant 
passing  through  his  Marguerite's  mind. 

Nevertheless,  having  with  a  firm  hand  and 
steady  attention  to  the  main  object  in  view 
brouglit  the  affair  to  the  above  favorable 
point,  she  felt  that  the  recognized  rules  of  the 
game  did  not  justify  her  in  refusing  to  her 
adorer  an  admixture  of  that  post  scria  ludum, 
which  happily  tempers  the  business  in  which 
they  had  been  engaged  as  well  as  most  other 
sublunary  matters.      She   permitted  him  to 


demand  for  a  categorical  verbal  answer  any  I  encircle  her  slender  and  clastic  waist  with 


148  LINDISFARN    CHASE. 

one  arm,  while  fondling  with  his  other  hand  burning  blushes,  to  confess  to  you  at  the  be- 
the  dainty  little  palm  passed  across  from  the  ginning  of  our  conversation.  I  should  be 
opposite  side,  only  thinking  with  a  pretty  compelled  to  fly  your  society — to  keep  you  at 
little  start  that  she  heard  the  gardener ,  when  a  distance  !  x\nd  how  could  I  submit  ?  How 
she  had  reason  to  fear  that  he  might  be  rump-  could  I  live  through  such  a  time  of  trial? 
ling  the  beautifully  arranged  folds  of  her  No  !  I  fully  agree  with  you  as  to  the  out- 
silk  skirt.  She  allowed  him  to  "  seal  the  side  world  ;  but  it  is  absolutely  essential 
contract  on  her  divine  lips,"  all  according  to  that  our  two  fathers  should  know  the  truth." 
the  well-known  rules,  merely  holding  up  her  ;  "  I  am  not  sure,"  said  Frederick,  hesitat- 
hands  the  while  in  such  a  manner  as  to  pro-    ingly. 

tect  as  far  as  might  be  from  injury  the  artis-  "  Look  here,  Frederick.  I  will  tell  you 
tic  arrangement  of  her  hair,  and  the  perfect  how  it  shall  be.  The  morning  is  the  best 
set  of  her  bonnet  and  its  ribbons,  and  recov-  time  to  be  sure  of  papa.  I  will  tell  him 
cring  and  repairing  herself  after  the  opera-  to-night  after  dinner.  I  can  make  an  op- 
tion with  a  manner  and  action  very  similar  portunity  of  speaking  to  him  alone  before 
to  that  of  a  duck  after  withdrawing  its  pretty  going  to  bed.  You  ride  up  early  to-morrow 
head  from  beneath  the  surface  of  the  water,    morning  to  breakfast,  and  see  my  father  in 

Having  accorded  these  favors,  howevor,  his  study  before  he  comes  out.  He  is  always 
while  meditating  on  the  next  step  which  it  up  some  time  before  the  breakfast-bell  rings, 
was  expedient  to  take  under  the  circumstan-  You  shall  find  the  way  well  prepared  for  you. 
ccs,  she  shook  off  the  sweet  forgetfulness  and  And  now  we  must  go  in.  Indeed,  we  have 
once  more  returned  to  business,  thus  : —  been   an  unconscionable  time  in   looking  at 

"  I  have  said  that  I  am  yours,  Frederick,  the  keep  of  the  castle!  Why  do  they  call 
because  you  bade  me  say  so,  and  because  it  the  keep,  I  wonder?  Because  it  keeps 
Heaven  knows  how  entirely  it  is  the  truth;  people  so  long  examining  it?  "  laughed  Mar- 
but  we  must  not  forget  that  I  am  promising  garet,  once  again  in  high  spirits  and  good- 
more  than  it  is  in  my  own  power  to  perform,  humor.  And  before  emerging  from  behind 
My  heart  is  your  jMarguerite's  own  to  give,  the  mass  of  trees  that  had  all  this  time  been 
and  she  has  given  it  freely,  wholly,  irrev-  hiding  them  from  the  windows  of  the  house, 
ocably  !  It  is  your  own,  now  and  forever  !  she  permitted  Frederick  one  repetition  of  the 
But  my  hand,  alas  !  is  not  so  entirely  at  my  "  sealing  "  process  ;  but  positively  only  one! 
own  disposition.  My  father !  You  must  ask  It  was  too  dangerous  to  the  ribbons  to  be 
me  of  him,  my  Frederick  !     I  have  no  reason    risked  needlessly  often. 

to  think  that  he  will  refuse  you  ;   how  should  |      "  I  think,"  said  Margaret,  as  they  entered 
I  have  any?     But  it  is  absolutely  necessary   the  house,  "  that  I  had  better  tell  AuntSem- 
to  make  your  demand  of  him  in  due  form,    pronia.     She  is  so  good  to  me  ;  and  we  can 
Trust  to  me  to  have  prepared  him  to  receive   perfectly  trust  her,  dear  creature !  " 
it."  I      Freddy  Falconer  was  not,  upon  the  whole, 

"  I  had  been  thinking,  my  own  Marguerite,  discontented  with  his  morning's  work;  though 
that  it  would  be  well  to  avoid  as  long  as  might  he  had  done  what  he  had  not  come  out  that 
be  the  envious  gossip  and  tittle-tattle  of  a  morning  with  the  intention  of  doing.  But 
little  country  town,  by  keeping  our  engage-  Margaret  was  such  a  darling!  He  was,  as 
ment  our  own  sweet  secret  for  a  while."  he  declared  to  himself,  not  without  some  lit- 

"  Oh,  you  are  so  right,  so  right !  It  will  tie  surprise,  and  at  the  same  time  a  sort  of 
be  the  greatest  relief.  It  will  need  but  a  self-congratulation,  really  and  truly  over 
word  to  papa,  a  hint,  that  it  is  as  well  to  let  head  and  cars  in  love.  And  then  it  could 
the  matter  remain  between  our  two  families  ;  not  be  otherwise  than  all  right.  There  were 
for  the  present.  He  will  meet  your  father,  |  the  Lindisfarn  lands.  They  were  not  like 
you  know  ;  and  that  is  all  that  is  necessary.  M.  de  Renneville's  coupons  and  actions. 
I  think  you  so  right."  ;  They  would  not  be  found  to  have   all  van- 

"  You  do  not  think  that  it  would  be  bet-  ,  ished  some  fine  morning.     No,  no  !     It  must 
ter  to  defer  the  application  to  your  father  for  ,  be  all  right, 
a  time?"  !      Nevertheless,   Mr.  Frederick   felt   that  he 

"Ah  no!  My  Frederick,  I  dare  not!  Aar/ put  out  his  arm  so  far  that  it  would  be 
Besides,  remember  what  I  was  forced,  amid    difficult   to   draw   it   back   again  ;   and   had 


learned  that  those  who  made  a  jioiiit  uf  regu- 
lating their  conduct  by  that  prudent  saw 
had  better  not  I'ence  with  such  as  are  their 
masters  at  the  play. 

CHAPTER  xxvii. 

"  UOW  SHALL  I  TELL  HER  ?  " 

Frederick  passed  through  the  house  from 
the  garden  without  thinking  it  necessary  to 
be  present  at  the  communication  about  to  be 
made  to  Lady  Sempronia.  Margaret  told 
her  aunt  wliat  had  occurred  in  a  few  simple 
words,  which  marked  that  gifted  young  lady's 
capacity  for  rightly  estimating  the  characters 
of  those  with  whom  she  was  brought  into 
contact.  Lady  Sempronia  expressed  her  con- 
gratulations,— of  course  in  the  form  of  condo- 
lences,— and  signified  her  entire  approbation 
of  the  alliance,  under  the  veil  of  a  resigned 
thankfulness  that  matters  were  not  worse 
than  they  were.  Mr.  Frederick  Falconer 
was  rather  a  model  young  man  in  her  eyes, 
as  indeed  he  was  in  those  of  most  of  the 
mammas  and  daughters  of  Silverton.  He  al- 
ways did  the  proper  thing  at  the  proper  time 
and  j'l'i'^e.  He  would  never,  it  might  be 
safely  predicted,  waste  his  own  or  his  wife's 
substance  in  printing  monographs  upon  any 
subject  whatever.  He  would  not  go  to  bed 
when  he  ought  to  dress  for  dinner.  He 
would  not  fancy  himself  in  church,  or  even 
in  his  bank,  when  he  was  entertaining  friends 
at  the  bottom  of  his  own  table.  Her  niece's 
lot  in  life  would  be  a  happier  one  than  her 
own  had  been. 

There  was  no  difficulty  in  making  Lady 
Sempronia  understand  that  it  would  be  desir- 
able not  to  made  the  news  public  just  at  pres- 
ent. She  detested  theSilvertonian  small-talk, 
in  which  she  had  bo  much  larger  a  passive 
than  an  active  share  ;  too  much  herself  not  to 
approve  cordially  of  that  measui-e.  And  still 
less  was  there  any  disagreement  respecting 
the  necessity  of  not  admitting  dear  Uncle 
Theophilus  to  the  secret.  Of  course  that 
would  be  equivalent  to  announcing  the  fact 
to  all  Silverton.  Mai-garet  told  her  aunt 
that  it  had  been  arranged  between  them  that 
Frederick  should  ride  up  to  the  Chase  the 
next  morning  to  ask  her  father's  consent  in 
due  form,  and  mentioned  her  purpose  of  tell- 
ing her  father  all  that  had  occurred  that  same 
night. 

So  then  the  two  ladies  nibbled  a  morsel  of 


LINDISFARN    CHASE.  149 

stale  cake,  and  drank  a  glass  apiece  of  vapid 
sherry  in  company  ;  Lady  Sempronia  invoked 
a  blessing  on  her  niece  in  tones  that  would 
have  suited  a  last  parting  in  Newgate  pre- 
paratory to  an  execution  of"  one  of  the  par- 
ties in  front  of  it  ;  Mr.  Mat  came  to  the  door 
in  the  gig,  and  excused  himself  from  entering 
on  the  plea  that  his  horse  would  not  stand 
(though,  to  tell  the  truth,  the  ostler  from 
the  Lindisfarn  Arms  had  found  no  difficulty 
in  smoking  a  quiet  and  meditative  pipe  while 
he  and  the  horse  had  waited  at  Peter  Glenny's 
door  sufficiently  long  for  Mr.  Mat,  Minor 
Canon  Thorburn,  and  Miss  Glenny,  the  or- 
ganist's sister,  just  to  try  over  again  the 
"Chough  and  Crow  ;  "  but  the  horses  from  the 
Chase,  all  of  them  except  Birdie,  had  a  par- 
ticular dislike  to  "  standing  "  at  the  senior 
canon's  door  in  the  Close);  and  Margaret 
was  driven  off  homeward. 

"  Afraid  I'm  a  few  minutes  late,  Miss 
Margaret !  But  we  sha'n't  be  long  in  getting 
over  the  eight  miles.  You  shall  have  a  good 
half-hour  to  dress  for  dinner,"  said  Mr.  Mat, 
touching  the  horse  on  the  flank  as  he  spoke. 

"  Oh,  please,  Mr.  Mat,  don't  drive  fast! 
I'm  always  so  frightened  in  a  gig.  Indeed,  I 
don't  want  half  an  hour  to  dress." 

"  All  right !  "  said  Mr.  Mat,  who,  with  a 
view  to  future  contingencies,  was  not  bent  on 
making  his  coachmanship  too  agreeable  to 
his  passenger ;  "  I  never  was  spilt  but  three 
times  in  my  life  ;  and  all  three  times  it  waa 
going  down  from  Silverton  turnpike  to  the 
Ivy  Bridge,  when  I  was  going  home  late  for 
dinner.     It's  an  ugly  pitch  that !  " 

"  Oh,  please,  Mr.  Mat !  For  goodness'  sake 
be  careful !  I  am  sure  we  can  spare  a  few 
minutes  !  "  cried  Margaret,  gi-asping  the  rail 
by  her  side,  and  with  difficulty  refraining 
from  screaming. 

"Not  half  a  minute  to  spare,  if  you  have 
got  to  try  on  three  dresses  before  you  come 
to  the  right  one  to-day,  Miss  Margaret!" 
retorted  the  horrid  brute,  speaking  in  his 
broadest  Zillshire. 

Margaret  gave  Azm,  too,  a  look, — her  second 
chef-d' (zuvre  in  that  line  to-day  ;  and  no- 
body who  had  seen  the  two  could  have  denied 
that  her  own  powers  in  that  department 
were  versatile.  But  Mr.  Mat  loas  taking 
care  of  his  driving  ;  and  was  none  the  worse 
for  the  fulmination,  as  he  did  not  see  it. 
I     Nothing  more  was  said  till  they  had  passed 


150 


LTNDISFARN    CHASE. 


the  Ivy  Bridge  in  safety,  and  begun  on  the  '  practice.  She  well  knew  how  high  Kate 
other  side  of  it  the  long  ascent,  mostly  stood  in  her  father's  affection  and  esteem, 
through  the  woods,  to  the  Chase.  There  never  had  been  anything  in  his  manner 

"  Lady  Sempronia  in  good  spirits?  "  said  to  herself,  which  was  always  indulges*,  and 
Mr.  ]Mat  then.  loving,  to  cause  her  the  slightest  uneasiness 

"  Her  ladyship  is,  I  believe,   as  well  as  ,  on  the  subject  ;  but  it  did  strike  her  that  it 


usual,"  replied  Margaret,  sulkily. 

"Poor  soul!  that's  a  bad  account,"  said 
Mr.  Mat. 

Margaret  vouchsafed  no  reply  to  this  ;  and 
they  proceeded  up  the  long  hill  in  silence, 
and  at  such  a  more  sober  pace  as  left  her 
mind  at  leisure  to  meditate  on  one  momen- 
tous question,  which  had  already  presented 
itself  to  her  before  she  left  Silverton. 

Was  she  to  tell  Kate?  and  if  so,  how  was 
she  to  tell  her  what  had  taken  place  ?  That 
was  the  question. 

It  did  not  take  her  long  to  decide  the  first 
part  of  the  doubt.  If  she  did  not  tell  Kate, 
her  father  unquestionably  would.  It  might 
be  very  easy  to  lead  him  to  agree  in  keeping 
the  matter  a  secret  for  a  time  from  the  public 
of  Silverton.  It  might  be  possible  to  per- 
suade him  that  the  discretion  of  Mr.  Mat 
and  Miss  Immy  was  not  to  be  implicitly 
trusted.  But  Margaret  knew  well  that  it 
would  seem  to  him  monstrous  and  out  of  the 
question  to  keep  her  secret  from  the  knowl- 
edge of  Kate.  It  might  be  dangerous  even 
to  propose  such  a  thing.  Margaret  had  taken 
good  care  to  inform  herself  of  a  fact,  of  which 
the  reader  is  already  aware,  which  was  also 
perfectly  well  known  to  the  Falconers,  father 
and  son,  and  which  had  been  the  cause  of 
that  little  prudential  hesitation,  which  had 
prompted  Falconer  in  his  somewhat  unsuc- 
cessful attempts  to  avoid  committing  him- 
self. Kate  and  Margaret  were  twin  sisters, 
and  all  the  Silverton  world  considered  them 
to  be  co-heiresses  of  the  Lindisfarn  estates. 
It  was  natural  that  they  should  be  so  ;  and 
the  squire  himself  in  all  probability  regarded 
them  as  such.  But  they  were  not  so  in  the 
eye  of  the  law.  They  were  not  so  indefeasi- 
bly.  Failing  a  male  heir,  Mr.  Lindisfarn's 
property  was  at  his  own  disposition.  And 
it  was  in  his  power  (and  therefore  it  was  an 
event  on  the  cards)  to  leave  the  whole  or  any 
proportion  of  the  estate  to  either  one  of  his 
daughters,  if  h?  should  see  fit  to  do  so.  This 
circumstance  was  never  very  far  distant  from 
Margaret's  well-regulated  mind,  and  added 
very  remarkably  to  the  binding  force  of  the 
Fifth  Commandment  in  her  estimation  and 


might  be  unwise,  as  well  as  certainly  futile, 
to  make  any  attempt  at  keeping  such  a  piece 
of  family  news  as  that  which  she  was  now 
carrying  home,  a  secret  from  Kate  while 
telling  it  to  her  father. 

As  to  the  latter  step,  it  was  of  course  ne- 
cessary for  very  obvious  reasons.  She  had 
understood  all  that  had  been  passing  in  her 
beloved  Frederick's  mind,  just  as  perfectly 
as  if  he  had  worn  glass  in  front  of  his  breast. 
His  part  naturally — and  very  properly — was 
to  play  fast  and  loose  in  case  of  possible  acci- 
dents. Hers,  more  especially  with  the  terrible 
bit  of  information  in  the  background  which 
she  had,  and  which  he  had  not,  wasof  course 
to  make  him  fast  as  words  and  vows  could 
make  him. 

It  was  absolutely  necessary,  then,  to  tell 
Kate  the  fact  of  her  engagement.  And  then 
came  the  consideration  how  that  was  to  be 
done.  After  all  that  had  taken  place  be- 
tween the  two  sisters,  she  felt  that  the  task 
was  a  diflScult  one.  It  was  true  that  she  had 
by  no  means  given  her  sister  to  understand 
that  she  had  any  intention  of  ruling  her  own 
conduct  in  conformity  with  her  scruples. 
On  the  contrary,  she  had  very  explicitly  re- 
served to  herself  entire  freedom  of  action. 
She  was  quite  aware,  however,  how  very 
strongly  Kate  would  be  grieved,  and  indeed 
outraged,  by  her  acceptance  of  Frederick's 
offer  under  the  circumstances  of  the  case. 
Her  indignation  she  might  brave.  But 
would  Kate  do  anything  ?  Would  slie  take 
any  steps? 

Would  it  perhaps  be  possible  to  make 
Kate  believe  that  she  had  told  Frederick  all 
the  truth,  and  that  he  had  persisted  in  his 
offer  undismayed  by  the  intelligence  ?  Yes  ! 
Kate  was  fool  enough  to  believe  anything. 
But  then  there  would  be  the  breach  of  her 
solemn  promise  not  to  mention  the  secret  of 
Julian's  existence,  and  far  worse,  the  cer- 
tainty that  Kate  would  then  speak  openly  to 
Falconer  on  the  subject.  No  ;  that  plan  was 
out  of  the  question. 

What  could  Kate  do  to  frustrate  her 
schemes,  if  she  were  anxious,  as  there  was 
every  reason  to  suppose  she  would  be,  to  do 


LINDISFARN    CHASE.  161 

BO  ?  She  could  not  tell  the  real  focte  of  the  to  do  that  the  last  thing  at  night,  when  the 
case  to  anybody,  probably  for  the  next  month  domestic  party  in  the  drawing-room  were 
to  come.  Could  she  allow  Falconer  to  be-  separating.  She  had  promised  that  Falconer 
come  aware  of  the  horrible  truth,  that  she  should  find  the  ground  prepared  for  him 
and  her  sister  were  two  portionless  girls,  in  when  he  came  the  first  thing  in  the  morning, 
any  way  without  telling  him  the  facts?  It  She  rather  wished,  now,  that  she  had  not 
might  perhaps  be  possible  for  her  to  say,  or  been  in  such  a  hurry,  and  had  fixed  a  later 
cause  to  be  said,  to  him  or  to  his  father,  day,  or  at  least  a  later  hour,  for  her  lover's 
enough  to  alarm  him  and  awaken  his  dis-  interview  with  her  father.  Could  she  man- 
trust  and  caution.  Would  Kate  take  that  age  to  see  the  latter  in  his  study  as  soon  as 
step,  considering  the  position  it  would  put  ever  he  was  up,  before  Fred's  arrival?  If 
her,  Margaret,  in?              •  so,  there  would  be  all  the  night  for  her  talk 

Margaret   thought  on    mature    considcra-  with  her  sister.     If  not,  there  would  be  no 

tion  that  she  would  not.  opportunity  for  speaking  with  Kate  save  the 

To  secure  this  result,  however,  she  must  hurried  half-hour  of  dressing  for  dinner,  on 

tell  her  story  to  Kate  pathetically,  not  defi-  the  instant  of  her  arrival  at  the  Chase.     That 

antly.     It  must  be  an  appeal  ad  misericor-  would  never  do.     There  was  not  time.     Be- 

Jiain.     (I   am   giving   Margaret's  thoughts,  sides,  it  was  so  immediate.     She  felt  that  she 

not   her  words.)     She  must  represent    her-  needed  a  little  time  to  make  up  her  mind  to 

self,  as  far  as  possible,  to  have  been  the  vie-  the  task,  and  to  arrange  her  story.      There 

tim  of  unlucky  chance  in  the  matter  of  her  was  nothing  for  it  save  the  other  plan.     And 

encounter  with    Falconer.      Then  difficulty,  if  Freddy  arrived  in  the  morning  before  she 

embarrassment,   fear  of   having   her   sacred  had  finished  her  interview  with  her  father, 

secret  wormed  out  of   her,  tender  passion,  why,  she  must  trust  to  Kate,  who  would  then 

etc.,  must  bear   the  blame,  if  any  still  re-  be  in  her  confidence,  to   receive   him,  and 

mained  to  be  borne.     Kate  was  very  soft —  make  him  understand  that  she  was  even  then 

believed   anything  she  was   told — was  very  performing  her  promise  to  him,  and  that  the 

pitiful,    and   easily   moved    to   compassion  !  coast  would  be  clear  for  his  attack  on  the 

And   then    again,  she  could   hardly  in   any  squire  in  a  minute  or  two.      The  time  left 

conceivable  way  make  any  such  communica-  for  him  to  do  his  work  in  before  the  ringing 

tion  to  the  Falconers,  however  enigmatical,  of   the   breakfast-bell,  which   was   like   the 

as  should  rouse  their  doubts  on  the  vital  sub-  trump  of  fate  to  the  squire,  would  be  short ; 

ject  of  the  heiress-ship,  without  exposing  to  but  perhaps  that  was  all  for  the  best. 

them,   either  at   once  or  subsequently,   the  So  Margaret,  much  pondering,  had  finally 

fact  that  she,  Kate,  and  therefore  in  all  hu-  arranged  her  programme  in  that  manner,  by 

man  probability,  she,  Margaret,  also,  had  the  time  she  and  Mr.  Mat  arrived  at  the 

been  cognizant  of  the  horrible  truth  at  the  Lodge. 

time  when  she  had   accepted,   and,  as  she  "  Done   the   eight   miles  and  a  bit  in  an 

knew  right  well  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart,  hour  and  ten  minutes  !     That's  not  so  bad, 

invited,  his  ofier.     And  would  Kate  contrib-  Miss  Margaret,  considering  the  ground,  and 

ute  to  place  her  sister  in  such  a  position  as  that  I  had  your  precious  safety  to  think  of," 

that?  said  Mr.  ]\Iat  ;  "  and  it  wants  five-and-thirty 

Margaret,    again  considering   this  matter  minutes  to  the  dinner-bell !  " 

dispassionately  and  carefully,   came  to  the  "Thank   you,    Mr.    Mat.      I    shall   have 

conclusion  tbat  Kate  would  not  do  this.  plenty   of    time,"    said    Margaret,   with    a 

The  history  of  the  morning,  therefore,  ac-  somewhat   unwonted    degree   of   cordiality, 

cording  to  such   carefully  arranged  version  born  of   the  sense  of  difficulty  and  danger 

of  it  as  she  thought  she  could  manage  to  which  was  pressing  on  her,  and  seemed  to 

concoct,  was  to  be  told  to  Kate  ;   and  she  counsel  the  wisdom  of  standing  as  well  with 


must  throw  herself  on  her  mercy. 

And  then  came  the  question, — when  was 
this  rather  formidable  and   important  con- 


all  around  her  as  might  be. 

So  she  hurried  up  to  her  room ;    and  to 
Kate's  somewhat  languid  questions  as  to  her 


versation  to  take  place?  It  was  evidently  day  at  Silvcrton,  replied  only  that  she  had  a 
necessary  that  it  should  be  done  before  she  great  many  things  to  tell  her, — far  more 
spoke  to  her  father.     And  slie  had  purposed    than  there  was  then  time  for  ;  and  that  they 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


152 

must  have  a  good  chat  when  they  came  up 
to  bed  at  night.  I 

Each  sister  perceived  at  once  that  there 
was  something  unusual  in  the  manner  of  the 
other.  And  each  conceived  at  once  a  shrewd 
suspicion  of  what  she  had  to  hear  from  the 
other.  Kate's  manner  was  languid,  de- 
pressed, and  that  of  one  exhausted  by  suf- 
fering ; — jNIargarct's,  febrile,  nervous,  and 
constrained.  Both  looked  forward  with  no 
little  apprehension  and  misgiving  to  the  con- 
versation appointed  for  that  night.  Marga- 
ret had  little  doubt  that  Kate  had  received 
the  oifer  from  Captain  Ellingham  which  she 
had  so  much  dreaded,  and  had  refused  it. 
And  though  totally  incapable  of  compre- 
hending many  of  the  feelings  which  had  ^ 
contributed  to  make  Kate's  task  a  terribly 
painful  one,  she  understood  that  it  must 
have  been  very  vexatious.  She  speculated 
much  on  the  question  what  influence  Kate's 
own  trouble  was  likely  to  have  on  the  mode 
in  which  she  would  receive  her  confidence  ; 
and  was  inclined  to  consider  that  the  result 
would  be  unfavorable.  Surely,  the  high  price 
which  she  had  paid  for  the  gratification  of 
her  own  scruples  would  disincline  her  to  in- 
dulgence for  another's  masterly  disregard  for 
them. 


Kate  surmised  and  greatly  dreaded,  yet 
struggled  against  believing  the  extent  of  the 
misfortune  she  had  to  learn  from  Margaret's 
confession.  She  knew  that  her  sister  at  least 
risked  seeing  Falconer  by  going  to  Silverton  ; 
she  had  felt  that  she  would  have  cut  her 
hand  ofiF  rather  than  have  run  that  risk  un- 
necessarily under  the  present  circumstances, 
and  she  greatly  feared,  both  from  what  she 
had  already  learned  to  know  of  Margaret's 
character,  and  from  her  obstinacy  in  going  to 
Silverton  that  morr^ng,  that  if  by  ill-hap 
Falconer  had  made  her  an  ofler,  Margaret 
had  not  had  firmness  and  high  principle 
enough  to  refuse  it. 

Both  girls  would  have  given  much  to  have 
avoided  going  through  the  ceremony  of  the 
dinner-table,  and  the  subsequent  evening  in 
the  drawing-room  ;  both  equally  longed  for 
and  dreaded  the  hour  that  was  to  come 
afterwards.  And  they  walked  down  to  the 
drawing-room  side  by  side,  each  with  her 
brain  and  heart  teeming  with  thoughts  and 
fear  and  doubts,  all  relating  to  the  same  set 
of  circumstances,  and  yet  all  as  wholly  diifer- 
ent  the  one  from  the  other  as  if  they  had 
been  conceived  by  creatures  of  two  different 
species. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


THE    TETE-A-TETE. 

At  last  the  long  evening  wore  itself  to  an 
end  ;  and  the  two  sisters  went  up-stairs 
together,  and  turned  into  Kate's  room,  for 
the  conversation  which  both  of  them  almosc 
equally  drtaded,  though  with  feelings  and 
from  motives  as  contrasted  as  it  was  well 
possible  for  them  to  be. 

"  You  need  not  wait,  Simmons,"  said 
Kate,  as  they  entered  the  room ;  "  Miss 
Margaret  and  I  want  to  have  a  good  long 
talk  before  we  go  to  bed  ;  and  we  wont  keep 
you  up.  We  will  help  each  other  to  un- 
dret^s.'' 

And  then,  as  soon  as  the  servant  had 
closed  the  door  behind  her,  the  two  girls  sat 
down, — Margaret  in  a  large  easy-chair,  that 
stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  Kate  close 
by  iier  side,  but  at  right  angles  to  the  front 
of  the  large  chair,  on  a  small  one,  which  she 
drew  from  the  side  of  her  drawing-table. 

Kate,  who  had  generally  plenty  of  color 
in  her  cheeks,  was  paler  than  usual ;  for  she 
had  been  and  was  still  suffering  much  ;  and 
was  moreover  struggling  against  a  sickening 
dread  of  what  was  coming.  Margaret,  who 
was  usually  as  white  as  a  lily,  had  a  bright 
spot  of  delicate  color  in  the  middle  of  her 
creamy  cheeks,  the  evidence  of  a  febrile  state 
of  nervous  agitation.  Perhaps  both  girls 
were  improved  in  beauty  by  the  deviation 
from  their  ordinary  appearance. 

Kate  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  I  know  already,  JMargaret,"  she  said, 
"  that  what  I  dreaded  from  your  going  to 
Silvcrton  this  morning  has  in  fact  hap- 
pened."' 

"  Why?  What  do  you  know?"  replied 
her  sister,  quickly  and  almost  fiercely. 

"I  know  that  you  saw  Mr.  Falconer." 

Kate  would  have  said  "Fred  Falconer" 
on  any  other  occasion ;  as,  in  speaking  to 
her  godmother  or  fo  any  of  her  own  family, 
she  was  ordinarily  in  the  habit  of  doing. 
The  feeling  which  made  her  now  speak  dif- 
ferently is  very  readily  understood.  But 
Margaret  marked  and  resented  the  little 
change. 

"  IIow  do  you  know  that?  "  rejoined  she, 
with  flashing  eyes. 

"  Because  Mr.  Mat  told  mc  that  he  saw 
him  cross  the  Close  with  my  uncle,  and  go 
into  the  house  with  him,  when  he  returned 
from  the  service  in  the  cathedral." 


153 

"  Tliat  odious  animal  again  I  "  tbcught 
Margaret,  jotting  down  the  new  offence  in 
the  long  bill  against  Mr.  Mat  posted  in  her 
memory,  and  meeting  it  all  the  same  with 
prompt  payment  in  ready  hatred.  But  all 
she  said  was, — 

"  IIow  docs  that  show  that  I  saw  him, 
pray?  When  I  am  at  the  close,  I  stay  in 
the  drawing-room  with  my  aunt.  And  Mr. 
Falconer  of  course  went  with  Uncle  Theophi- 
lus  into  the  study." 

"Did  you  not  see  him,  then?"  asked 
Kate,  simply  and  directly. 

"  That  is  another  matter,"  replied  Marga- 
i-et,  who  of  course  had  no  intention  of  de- 
nying what  she  had  come  there  specially  to 
confess ;  and  who  had  only  fenced  with 
Kate's  opening  in  the  manner  she  had  done 
from  an  instinctive  desire  to  put  off"  for  an 
instant  or  two  more  the  disagreeable  moment 
which  was  coming. 

"You  did  see  him,  then?  Of  course  you 
did.  Oh,  Margaret!  I  wish  you  had  not 
gone  to  Silverton  this  morning.  It  was  very 
imprudent  under  the  circumstances.  I  do 
wish  you  had  not  gone,"  repeated  Kate, 
with  so  deep  a  sigh  that  it  was  almost  a 
groan . 

"  Well !  I  did  expect  a  rather  more  sis- 
terly reception  for  what  I  had  to  tell  you, 
I  do  confess,  Kate.  I  come  to  open  my 
heart  to  you,  and  make  no  secrets  between 
us,  and — and  tell  you  everything,  and  you 
meet  me  with  reproaches  and  groans !  " 

"I  meant  no  reproach,  dear;  but  for 
Heaven's  sake  tell  me  at  once  what  hap- 
pened!" replied  Kate,  now  thoroughly  alarm- 
ed by  her  sister's  words  and  manner. 

"  Well !  What  I  have  to  tell  is  of  a  kind 
usually  received  with  a  very  different  sort 
of  welcome,  Kate,  from  that  which  you 
seem  inclined  to  accord  to  my  tidings." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  " — said  Kate,  look- 
ing with  large  and  affrighted  eyes  on  the 
deepening  color  in  her  sister's  face,  and  hesi- 
tating to  shape  her  dread  into  words. 

"  I  mean,  Kate,  that  I  was  quite  right  in 
my  estimation  of  the  character  of  Mr.  Fal- 
coner, as  you  have  suddenly  taken  to  call 
him.  You  remember  our  last  conversation 
here?  You  remember  what  I  then  said  of 
Fred's  disinterestedness,  and  superiority  to 
all  mercenary  considerations?  Well,  I  was 
right,  Kate,  in  my  judgment  of  him.  That 
is  all." 


154 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"  Do  you  mean  that  you  told  him  of  our 
loss  of  fortune — or  rathei"  of  our  never  hav- 
ing had  any  fortune  at  all?  "  exclaimed  Kate, 
whose  fears  began  to  point  to  a  catastrophe 
in  a  new  direction. 

"Kate!  "  exclaimed  her  sister,  in  a  tone 
of  strong  i-emonstrance  and  virtuous  indig- 
nation ;  "  is  it  possible  that  you  can  suspect 
me  of  such  baseness?  Do  you  really  think 
that  I  could  have  under  any  circumstances 
betraved  the  secret  you  confided  to  me  in  so 
solemn  a  manner?  No,  my  sister,  you  do 
not  know  me  !  " 

"I  don't  suspect  you,  Margaret;  but  I 
can't  understand  you  !  What  has  passed 
between  you  and  Falconer  ?  And  what  proof 
can  you  have  had  of  his  disinterestedness?  " 
Thus  pressed,  Margaret  paused  a  moment 
before  making  the  decisive  plunge,  intently 
occupied  with  the  thought  how  she  could 
accomplish  it  most  efiectively  and  gracefully. 
Then,  rising  from  her  chair,  and  iiinging 
herself  on  her  sister's  shoulder,  so  as  to  hide 
her  face  among  the  abundant  curls  that  hung 
around  Kate's  neck,  she  whispered  in  her 
ear, — 

"It  is  all  settled  between  us.  We  are 
pledged  to  each  other  solemnly  and  irrevoca- 
bly !  And  he  is  the  most  generous  and  most 
disinterested  of  men  ;  —  and  he  is  coming  up 
to  the  Chase  to  speak  to  papa  before  break- 
fast to-morrow  morning !" 

"  Oh,  Margaret,  Margaret !  What  does  it 
all  mean  ?  Are  you  sure  that—  What  did 
you  tell  him  ?  Without  betraying  Julian's 
secret,  I  don't  understand — " 

"  Why,  won't  you  kiss  me  and  congratulate 
me,  Kate?"  said  her  sister,  still  hanging 
round  her  neck. 

"  You  know,  Margaret,  that  your  happi- 
ness is  as  dear  to  me  as  my  own,"  replied 
Kate,  kissing  her  on  the  forehead  in  obedi- 
ence to  this  appeal ;  "  but  I  don't  understand 
how  Falconer  has  proved  his  disinterested- 
ness, or  what  opportunity  there  was  for 
anything  of  the  sort,  since  you  did  not  say  a 
word  to  him  about  the  change  in  our  pros- 
pects." 

"Ah,  Kate  !  you  will  persist  in  suspecting 
and  misjudging  him !  "  said  Margaret,  in  a 
tone  of  deeply  sorrowing  reproach.  "  Are 
you  sure,  my  sister,"  she  continued,  drawing 
back  her  head,  and  looking  steadily  into  the 
innocent,  pellucid  depths  of  Kate's  honest 
,  eyes,  as  if  it  were  necessary  to  look  very  far 


down,  in  order  to  read  the  truth  at  the  bot- 
tom of  their  wells, — are  you  sure  that  there 
is  no  feeling  at  the  bottom  of  your  heart, 
which  interferes  with  your  congratulating 
me  on  my  happiness  as  frankly  and  heartily 
as  I  had  hoped?  " 

"Oh,  Margaret  !  what  are  you  dreaming 
of?  Only  let  us  see  clearly  that  there  has 
been  no  mistake,  no  misunderstanding  ; — 
that  Falconer  knows,  that  in  proposing  to 
you,  he  is  proposing  to  a  girl  without  a 
penny  of  fortune,  and  I  will  congratulate 
you,  and  rejoice  in  your  happiness,  my  dear, 
dear  sister,  believe  me,  as  I  would  in  my 
own.  But  I  don't  understand  it!  Tell  me, 
darlino;,    how  it   came    about,  and  all  that 


"Oh,  how  can  I  tell  you  all  that  he  said  ! 
I  suppose  that  such  matters  pass  generally 
very  much  in  the  same  way.  But  I  can  very 
accurately  tell  you  what  he  did  not  say.  He 
did  not  make  any  single  allusion,  much 
less  any  inquiry  as  to  fortune  or  money  mat- 
ters from  beginning  to  end.  I  assure  you  he 
was  thinking  of  quite  other  things." 

Kate's  face  fell ;  and  a  cold  spasm  clutched 
her  heart  as  her  sister  spoke.  She  had  be- 
gun to  hope  from  what  Margaret  had  been 
saying  that,  somehow  or  other,  though  she 
could  not  quite  comprehend  how,  it  had  come 
to  pass  that  Falconer  had  become  aware  of 
the  real  state  of  the  case,  and  had  really 
taken  the  step  Margaret  announced  him  to 
have  taken,  with  duly  opened  eyes.  But 
her  sister's  words  cruelly  destroyed  any  such 
illusion. 

"  Is  that  all?  Margaret  dear,  that  is  not 
enough.  You  are  deluding  yourself.  Con- 
sider for  a  moment !  Of  course  Mr.  Falconer 
spoke  to  you  under  the  full  impression  that 
you  were  the  heiress  to  half  papa's  property. 
If  nothing  were  ever  told  him  to  the  contrary, 
of  course  he  thought  so.  He  was  justified  in 
thinking  so.  Does  not  every  other  human 
being  in  Sillsh ire  suppose  so?  We  only  — 
you  and  I  only  in  all  the  world  know  that 
we  have  no  claim  to  any  such  position." 

"  But  why  will  you  persist  in  attributing 
your  own  mercenary  feeliugs  to  other  peo- 
ple? "  said  Margaret,  who  found  it  impossible 
to  keep  her  temper  as  much  under  control  as 
she  had  purposed  doing.  "  I  tell  you  that 
Falconer  had  no  such  ideas  in  his  mind. 
You  must'excuse  me  if  I  persist  in  believing, 
extraordinary  as  it  may  seem  to  you,  that  I 


L I  N  D I  S  F  A  R  N 

was  tho 


CHASE. 


155' 


myself,  and  not  tlic  Lindiyfarn  acr 
object  of  liiH  pursuit." 

"  You  know,  Margaret,  that  I  have  no 
wish  to  say  or  think  otherwise,"  replied 
Kate  ;  "  but  surely  you  would  wish  that  any 
one  so  addressing  you  should  not  do  so  in 
ignorance  of  the  truth  on  such  a  sul)ject. 
Think  whether  you  would  like  the  telling  liim 
afterwards  ln'W  the  matter  really  stands. 
Think  liow  intolerable  it  would  be,  and  then 
judge  of  the  necessity  for  preventing  it !" 

*'  But  how  could  I  help  it?  You  are  so 
unreasonable,  Kate, — so  unfair  !  You  tell 
me  facts  with  the  positive  injunction  to  keep 
them  secret,  and  tlien  make  it  a  matter  of 
bkunc  to  me  that  I  do  not  blab  them  on  the 
first  opportunity.  VYould  you  have  had  me 
repeat  to  Falconer  all  that  I  had  solemnly 
pi-omised  you  to  keep  secret?  " 

"Of  course  you  could  not  betray  poor 
Julian's  secret." 

"  Then  I  should  like  to  know  what  you 
would  have  had  me  do  ?  " 

"  You  know,  Margaret  dear,  that  I  foresaw 
the  danger  and  the  difficulty.     That  was  my 


ourselves.  And  it  was  very  evident  tliat  the 
possession  of  it  might  place  us  in  very  pain- 
ful circumstances.  Tliat  is  why  I  wished 
you,  as  far  as  possible,  to  avoid  tiie  danger 
you  have  fallen  into.  You  would  go  to  Sil- 
verton  ;  and  it  has  happened  as  I  feared  it 
might.  And  now  the  question  is.  What  do 
you  mean  to  do?  " 

"What  is  the  good  of  talking  in  that  way, 
Kate?  of  course  it  is  out  of  the  question  to 
betray  Julian's  secret.  What  do  I  mean  to 
do  ?  I  liave  done  all  that  I  mean  to  do.  He 
told  me  he  loved  me,  and  asked  me  if  I 
could  love  him.  My  answer  was  a  frank  and 
honest  one.     What  could  I  do  more?  " 

"But  surely  you  must  feel,  Margaret, 
that  it  is  impossible  for  you  to  let  him  enter 
into  an  engagement  to  you,  supposing  you  to 
be  heiress  to  half  the  Lindisfarn  property, 
and  you  knowing  all  the  time  how  sadly  dif- 
ferent your  position  is." 

"  I  told  you  my  feelings  and  principles  on 
such  subjects,  Kate,  when  we  spoke  on  this 
point  before.  I  have  been  brought  up  to 
think  that  girls  have  no  business  to  meddle 


reason  for  telling  you  the  facts  that  had  come    with  such  matters.     It  appears  to  one  who 


to  my  knowledge.  I  saw  that  anj  offer  of 
marriage  to  either  of  us,  before  we  should  be  at 
liberty  to  let  the  truth  be  publicly  known, 
would  impose  on  us  the  necessity  of  refusing 
it,  without  being  able  to  explain  the  circum- 
stances under  which  we  did  so.  It  was  very 
possible  that  such  a  difficulty  might  have 
fallen  upon  you,  even  if  you  had  done  all 


has  had  the  advantage  of  such  an  education 
exceedingly  indelicate  for  them  to  do  so.  I 
shrink  instinctively  from  all  contact  with 
considerations  and  business  of  the  kind.  I 
cannot  enter  into  such  things." 

"  It  may  be,"  said  Kate,  with  a  sort  of 
dreamy  musing,  "that  you  are  right.  But 
then  what  was  so  disagreeable  for  you  to  sav 


your  power  to  prevent  it.     But  I  would  have  I  must  be  said  for  you  by  some  one  else.     Papa 


had  you  endeavor  in  every  way  to  avoid  it 
I  would  have  had  you  abstain  from  going  to 
LSilverton,  as  you  know,  this  morning." 
"  Nothing  is  easier  than  preaching,  Kate  ! 


must  tell  Mr.  Falconer  that  " — 

"  You  don't  mean  to  betray  poor  Julian's 
secret  ?  Think  of  the  consequences  !  "  cried 
Margaret,  quickly,  and  with  an  alarmed 
I  should  like  to  know  what  you  would  have  '  glance  at  her  sister's  face  ;  "  surely  that  is 
done,    if  the    case    had    been   your    own?  I  impossible !  " 

Besides,  was  it  just,  or  fair,  or  to  be  tol- !  "  Yes,  that  is  impossible.  That  is  what 
erated,  that  I  should  shut  myself  up,  and  not  makes  the  difficulty.  But  something  must 
dare  to  show  my  nose  out  of  the  lodge  gates,  I  be  done.     Something  must  be  said  to  Fal- 


because  a  cousin  whom  I  have  never  seen 
has  put  himself  into  such  a  position  that  his 
existence  cannot  be  avowed  ?  Not  I  inde&d  ! 
I  hate  all  such  underhand  doings  and  dis- 
creditable secrets.  It  is  a  sort  of  thing  that 
I  have  never  been  used  to." 

"  I  have  no  liking  for  secrets  oi  any  sort, 
Margaret ;    and  God  knows  that  I  long  for 


coner  before  it  is  too  late.' 

"What  is  it  possible  to  say?"  rejoined 
IMargaret,  in  much  alarm.  Then,  after  a 
pause,  during  which  her  whole  power  of 
thinking  was  brought  to  bear  intently  on  the 
subject,  she  added,  "If  he  were  the  sordid 
wretch  you  persist  in  imagining  him  to  be, 
it  would  be  quite  enough  to  explain  all  these 


the  time  when  this  one  may  be  freely  dis-  i  matters  to  him  at  any  time  before  the  mar- 
closed.  But  this  secret  is  not  of  my  seeking  '  riage  took  place.  But  if,  as  I  know  right 
or  making,  nor  of  yours.    We  could  not  help  '  well,   no    such    considerations   would    have 


LTNDISFARN    CHASE. 

t  would  be  as   needless  as,  could  I    do?     You  admit  that   I  could  not 


156 

weight  with  hiu; 

useless  to  enter  into  the  subject  now." 

"  But,  dealest  Margaret,  you  do  not  seem 
to  see  the  matter  in  its  true  light.  Of  course 
it  would  be  out  of  the  question  to  make  a 
marriage  with  one  who  supposed  you  to  be  a 
large  heiress,  while  you  were  aware  that 
you  were  notiiing  of  the  kind.  And  of 
course  the  marriage  might  be  broken  off 
when  that  fact  could  be  openly  told.  But 
would  not  such  a  breaking  off  be  very  painful 
to  us  all?  Would  it  not  be  wrong  to  place 
any  man  knowingly  in  such  a  position  as 
should  compel  him  to  make  such  a  breaking 
off?  But  even  that  is  not  the  worst.  I  am 
not  so  much  thinking  of  protecting  Mr.  Fal- 
coner from  the  danger  of  making  a  bad 
match.  What  I  am  anxious  about  is  that 
you  should  not  accept  an  offer,  knowing  well 
that  it  was  made  in  ignorance  of  circum- 
stances of  which  you  were  well  aware." 

"  But  I  am  not  supposed  to  know  any- 
thing of  the  kind  !  "  burst  in  Margaret,  sur- 
prised into  a  naively  sincere  avowal  of  her 
insincerity  ;  "  I  should  have  known  nothing 
of  the  kind  if  it  had  not  been  for  your  offi- 
cious eagerness  to  tell  me  bad  news.  I  should 
have  known  nothing  of  the  kind  ;  and  there 
would  have  been  no  difficulty  in  the  mat- 
ter," urged  Margaret,  forgetting  honestly, 
in  her  indignation,  that,  had  she  not  re- 
ceived the  fatal  information  from  Kate,  she 
would  assuredly  have  been  in  no  such  hurry 
to  receive  the  offer,  which  she  had  that  day 
extracted  from  Fred  in  so  masterly  a  man- 
ner, in  the  canon's  garden. 

"  Oh,  Margaret !  "  said  Kate,  sorrowfully; 
"  I  told  you  what  I  knew,  only  that  you 
might  avoid  the  embarrassment  which  you 
have  fallen  into." 

"  I  see  no  embarrassment  at  all,"  rejoined 
Margaret,  —  "unless,  indeed,  you  should 
think  it  right  to  complete  the  work  you  did 
when  you  told  me  this  improbable  story — 
which  I  do  not  half  believe  —  by  publish- 
ing abroad  that  you  told  it  to  me." 

"Margaret!"  almost  shrieked  Kate,  as 
if  she  had  received  a  sudden  stab;  "how 
can  you  speak  such  words?  And,  oh,  Mar- 
garet, how  can  you  persuade  yourself  to  en- 
ter on  such  a  path  of  duplicity  ?  You  will 
know  that  you  knew  it  if  nobody  else  were 
ever  to  know  it." 

"  It  is  all  very  fine  preaching,  Kate,  espe- 
cially in  a  case  that  is  not  one's  own.     What 


tell  him  the  secret.  What  was  I  to  do? 
What  answer  was  1  to  make  to  him  ?  " 

"  1  should  have  declined  his  offer,  Marga- 
ret," said  her  sister,  quietly. 

"  But  it  was  not  my  wish  to  decline  his 
offer!  And  on  what  grounds  too?  Was 
I  to  tell  him  I  hated  him  ?  That  wuuld 
have  been  a  lie.  Spuken  to  as  he  spoke  to 
me,  I  could  but  confess  the  truth, — that  I 
was  not  indifferent  to  him.  What  would  you 
have  had  me  say?  " 

"  I  know  that  it  was  difficult,"  said  Kate, 
speaking  still  more  quickly,  and  with  her 
eyes  cast  down  to  the  ground. 

"  Surely,  then,  I  took  the  only  path  that 
was  open  to  me  ;  all  taken  by  surprise,  too, 
as  I  was,"  pleaded  Margaret.  "  I  hardly 
knew  what  I  was  saying.  I  only  knew  that 
it  was  impossible  to  me  to  hide  the  truth 
from  him.  Could  you  expect  me  to  be 
thinking  of  fortunes  and  marriage  settle- 
ments at  such  a  moment?  Don't  be  too  hard 
upon  me,  Kate  !" 

"  Heaven  knows,  Margaret,  that  I  have  no 
wish  to  be  hard  on  you  ;  but  every  wish  to 
help  you  in  any  possible  way.  But  remem- 
ber, that  it  must  needs  be  known  that  I,  at 
least,  was  aware  of  Julian's  existence  at  the 
time  when  Mr.  Falconer  made  his  offer  to 
you." 

"  Why  should  it  be  known  that  the  man 
who  was  wounded  by  the  revenue  officers, 
and  whom  you  visited  in  his  illness  at  Mr. 
Pendleton's  cottage,  was  our  cousin,  Julian 
Lindisfarn  ?  If  he  recovers,  as  there  seems 
to  be  little  reason  to  doubt  that  he  will,  and 
goes  away  back  again  to  Finance,  as  soon  as 
he  is  able  to  move,  why  should  we  say  any- 
thing about  the  matter  at  all  ?  Why  cause 
so  much  unnecessary  pain  and  sorrow  to  all 
our  relatives?  Of  course  he  will  come  for- 
ward in  due  time  to  claim  his  inheritance. 
There  is  no  chance  of  his  failing  to  do  that. 
Why  need  we  move  in  the  matter  till  then  ? 
And  why  need  it  ever  be  known  to  anybody 
that  you  were  aware  of  his  existence  before 
the  time  when  it  may  become  known  to  all 
the  family  !" 

"It  is  bad  enough  to  have  to  keep  the  se- 
cret till  he  goes  away,"  said  Kate,  with  a 
sigh  that  was  almost  a  groan  ;  "  but,  Mar- 
garet," she  added  quickly,  and  looking 
keenly  into  her  face, — for  the  progress  of  the 
conversation   was    rapidly  generating   very 


painful  misgivings  in  Kate's  mind, — "  you 
cannot  dvcam  of  absolutely  marrying  any 
man.  who  is  under  the  delusion  that  you  are 
an  heiress  !" 

"Oh,  of  eourse  not  that!"  said  Marga- 
ret, while  a  hot  flush  suffused  her  fiicc. 
"  When  it  comes  to  the  business  part  of  the 
matter,  and  the  laAvyers,  and  all  that,  of 
course  all  such  tilings  will  be  properly  ex- 
plained and  put  right.  But  since  we  cannot 
tell  the  real  truth  at  once,  and  that  by  no 
fault  of  oars,  I  cannot  see  that  we  are  bound 
to  make  difficulties  for  ourselves  and  sorrow 
and  trouble  for  others  by  interfering  in  the 
matter.  Surely,  under  the  circumstances  of 
the  case,  it  would  be  more  sisterly,  Kate,  to 
abstain  from  betraying  the  fact  that  I  knew 
of  the  matter  when  Frederick  proposed  to 
me  this  morning.  I  could  not  tell  him,  you 
know.  And  yet  he  might  think  that  I  ought 
to  have  done  so.  It  is  very,  very  hard  !  I 
do  think,  Kate,  that  you  might  spare  me 
this." 

And  as  she  spoke,  she  threw  those  eloquent 
eyes  of  hers,  with  a  wistful  and  almost  tear- 
ful glance  of  entreaty  in  them,  on  her  sister's 
face,  in  a  manner  that  Kate's  heart  could 
not  resist.  Kate  had  but  little  notion  of  the 
falsehood  practised  by  tongues.  But  that 
human  eyes  also  should  tell  lies,  was  an  idea 
that  had  never  been  dreamed  of  in  her  phi- 
losophy . 

She  did  feel  it  "  very  hard,"  as  Margaret 
had  said,  that  the  fatality  of  circumstances 
should  make  it  impossible  for  her  to  pursue 
her  usual  straightforward  path  of  frank  and 
thoroughly  open  truthfulness.  And  it  did 
occur  to  her  mind,  for  a  passing  moment, 
that  it  was  "  very,  very  hard  "  that  EUing- 
ham  should  never  come  to  know  that  she  had 
made  the  discovery  of  her  own  want  of  for- 
tune all  but  immediately  before  her  refusal 
of  his  suit.  lie  would  come  to  know  it,  of 
course.  But  what  would  she  not  have  given 
for  the  assurance  that  he  should  be  made 
aware  that  she  was  in  possession  of  the  fatal 
secret  at  the  time  of  her  rejection  of  him  ! 
And  it  was  very  bitter  to  her  to  think  that 
this  fact  might  never  be  known  to  him. 
Nevertheless,  if  consideration  for  her  sister 
were  to  prevail  so  far  as  to  induce  her  to 
consent  to  a  suppression  of  the  facts  known 
to  her  for  a  longer  time  than  her  promise  to 
her  cousin  rendered  necessary,  assuredly  the 


LINDISFARN    CHASE.  157 

to  EUingham  should  not  induce  her  to  expose 
her  sister's  want  of  openness.  And  in  all 
probability  the  sense  of  self-sacrifice  operated 
in  some  degree  to  reconcile  her  conscience  to 
the  connivance  with  the  suppression  of  the 
truth,  which  was  asked  of  her.  Had  her 
own  interests  pointed  in  the  same  direction 
with  Margaret's  in  the  matter,  it  may  be 
safely  assumed  that  she  would  not  have 
yielded  to  the  hitter's  pleading. 

As  it  was,  she  began  to  feel,  as  Margaret 
looked  up  in  her  face,  that  she  should  not 
have  the  courage  to  condemn  her  to  the  ex- 
posure that  would  be  involved  in  the  making 
known  her  acquaintance  with  the  fact  of  Ju- 
lian's existence.  The  idea  of  the  agony 
which  she  would  herself  have  felt  if  she  had 
accepted  an  offer  of  marriage  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, and  had  afterwards  been  dis- 
covered to  have  known  all  the  time  that  she 
was  a  penniless  bride,  Avas  too  vividly  pres- 
ent to  her  mind  for  it  to  be  possible  for  her 
to  sentence  her  sister  to  it. 

"  Would  to  God,"  she  said,  looking  piti- 
fully at  her  sister,  "  that  this  had  not  hap- 
pened !  Would  to  God,  that  it  could  have 
been  avoided !  " 

"  But  now  that  it  has  happened  so,  you 
will  not  denounce  me,  Kate?"  said  Marga- 
ret, perceiving  that  her  sister's  tenderness 
for  her  was  getting  the  upper  hand  in  her 
mind. 

"  Denounce  you,  Margaret  !  " 

"  You  will  not  declare  that  I  knew  this 
hateful  secret,  which  I  had  no  desire  to  know, 
and  which  I  was  bound  by  my  promise  to 
you  not  to  disclose?  " 

"No,  I  will  not,  Margaret.  I  will  say 
nothing  on  the  subject.  God  forgive  me,  if 
it  is  wrong  !  I  do  not  see  clearly  what  is 
right  in  the  matter.  I  will  not  say  any 
words  that  shall  bring  disgrace  or  blame  upon 
you." 

"  And  you  will  not,  immediately  after 
Julian's  departure,  take  any  steps  to  noise 
abroad  the  fact  of  his  being  still  alive  ?  You 
would  only  be  blamed  for  having  concealed  it 
while  he  was  here." 

"  But,  ^largaret,  that  must,  at  all  events, 
be  told.  You  cannot  let  things  go  on,  you 
know,  till  " — 

"  Of  course,  of  course,  Kate  ;  I  know  that. 
But  leave  the  things  alone.  Let  the  facts 
disclose  themselves  at  the  proper  time.     Why 


gratification  of  her  own  feelings  with  regard  I  should  we  meddle  in  the  matter  ? 


158 

"  Only,  if  things  were  to  come  to  a  crisis 
between  you  and  Falconer,  you  know,  Mar- 
garet, before  the  circumstance  of  Julian's 
life  had  become  known,  it  would,  in  that 
case,  be  absolutely  necessary  for  us  to  dis- 
close the  truth." 

"  Oh,  yes!  Of  course,  of  course!  But 
things  will  not  come  to  a  crisis,  as  you  call 
it,  so  soon  as  all  that.  I  am  in  no  great 
hurry.  Depend  upon  it  that  Falconer  will 
and  shall  know  the  whole  state  of  the  case 
before  anything  is  definitely  settled.  But 
promise  me  that  you  will  not  denoiince  me 
as  having  known  the  truth  all  the  time  !  " 

"  But  you  seemed  just  now,  Margaret,  to 
think  that  it  did  not  matter  whether  you 
knew  it  or  not ;  and  that,  in  any  case,  it  was 
no  business  of  yours  to  pay  any  attention  to 
it,  or  to  speak  to  Mr.  Falconer  on  any  such 
subject." 

"  And  so  I  do  think,"  returned  Margaret, 
sharply  i  '-those  are  the  ideas  and  feelings 
in  which  I  have  been  brought  up.  But  if  1 
have  been  led  astray  by  the  difference  of 
ways  and  manners  in  this  part  of  the  world, 
I  can't  help  it !  I  am  quite  convinced  in  my 
own  mind,  that  the  knowledge  of  Julian's 
existence   and  the  effect  it  may  have  on  my 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


will  not  take  upon  myself  to  interfere  with 
your  conduct  in  the  matter  by  any  acts  or 
words  of  mine  " — 

"  That  is  all  I  ask  of  you,  Kate.  That  is 
my  own  dear  sister!  "  exclaimed  Margaret, 
with  much  effusion  of  manner. 

— "  Unless,  indeed,"  continued  Kate,  speak- 
ing with  evident  reluctance,  "any  acts  or 
words  of  mine  should  be  necessary  to  prevent 
a  marriage  being  absolutely  made,  without 
the  real  state  of  the  case  being  known." 

At  the  beginning  of  the  conversation  be- 
tween the  two  girls,  Kate  would  never  have 
thought  of  making  any  such  proviso  as  the 
above.  And  she  would  hardly  now  have  ad- 
mitted to  herself  that  there  was  any  necessity 
for  it.  But,  despite  herself,  an  unreasoned 
and  unavowed  consciousness  had  come  into 
her  mind  since  the  discussion  began,  that  in- 
stinctively prompted  her  to  utter  it. 

A  dark  shade  passed  over  Margaret's  face, 
like  a  cloud  before  the  moon,  save  that  it 
passed  more  rapidly  than  any  storm-cloud. 
It  was  gone  in  scarcely  more  than  a  second, 
and  the  lightning  flash  from  the  eyes,  that 
had  accompanied  it,  passed  from  them  as 
rapidly.  But  there  was  a  dangerous  and 
scathing  look  about  it,  during  the  moment  it 
fortune  will  not  make  any  difference  in  Fred's  j  lasted,  that  would  Iiave  seemed  to  any  more 


feelings  toward  me.  To  my  ideas,  it  seems 
absurd  to  suppose  that  it  could  do  so.  If  I 
am  anxious  not  to  be  known  to  have  been 
aware  of  certain  circumstances  this  morning, 
it  is  in  deference  to  your  ideas,  Kate,  rather 
than  to  my  own." 

Kate  had  nothing  ready  to  reply  to  this. 
There  was  a  slippery  agility  about  her  sis- 
ter's fence,  that  was  altogether  too  much  for 
the  steady,  straightforward,  perfectly  open 
march  of  ideas  that  was  habitual  to  her  own 
mind. 

"  I  wish  I  had  not  told  you  anything 
about  it,  Margaret!  "  she  said,  after  mus- 
ing a  little  while,  and  sighing  deeply  as  she 
spoke.  "  It  did  not  seem  to  me  at  the  time 
at  all  sisterly  not  to  tell  you.  But  now  I 
think  that  it  would  have  been  for  the  best  to 
keep  it  from  you.     Perhaps  I  was  wrong !  " 

"  I  confess  I  think  you  were,  Kate.  I  am 
quite  sure  that  I  should  have  much  preferred 
knowing  nothing  about  it.  I  hate  all  busi- 
ness matters." 


observant  and  skilled  interpreter  than  Kate, 
eloquent  of  anything  save  sisterly  love. 

But  the  cloud  flitted  past,  and  the  flash 
died  out  as  suddenly  as  it  had  shot  forth — 
and  ^Margaret  only  said,  with  a  sort  of  impa- 
tient manner — , 

"  Of  course,  of  course  !  Cela  va  sans  mot 
dire!  So  now,  dear  Kate,  we  understand 
each  other.  I  am  so  glad !  And  now  will 
you  not  congratulate  me  on  my  happiness? 
for  indeed  I  am  very  happy." 

What  could  Kate  say?  She  had  the  most 
perfect  conviction  that  no  marriage  would 
take  place  between  Frederick  Falconer  and 
any  undowered  lady,  be  she  who  she  might. 
It  was  difficult  to  furnish  the  congratulations 
required  of  her  on  such  a  prospect.  She 
could  only  say  that  she  did  most  sincerely 
rejoice  in  anything  which  was  for  her  sister's 
happiness.  And  that  safe  generalization 
passed  muster  very  satisfactorily.  Margaret 
had  been  victorious  in  the  great  battle  she 
had  come  into  that  room  that  night  to  fight ; 


"  I  did  as  I  would  have  wished  you  to  do  ,  and  she  was  content. 
by  me  in  such  a  case,  Margaret.     Neverthe- 1      "  And  now,  Katie  dear,  it  is  high  time  for 
lees,  I  Bay,  perhaps  I  was  wrong.     And  I  j  us  to  go  to  bed.     Good  gracious !  it  is  near 


LINDISFARN    CHASl 


159 


one  o'clock!  And  wo  must  both  bo  up  in  ,  difficulties  and  troubles  opened  itself  mistily 
good  time  bcCorc  breakfast  to-nionow  morn-  '  and  indistinctly  bclbro  her.  IIow  slie  should 
ing.  lie  is  to  bo  hero  to  speak  to  papa  in  I  fight  througii  them  she  did  not  know,  nor 
his  study  before  the  bell  rings.  And  I  have  :  could  she  now  pause  to  consider.  Uut  this 
promised  tliat  he  shall  find  the  way  prepared  first  step  to-morrow  morning  she  felt  that  she 
for  liim  ;    so  that  I  must  see  papa  first ;  and    could  not  take.     And  it  was  absolutely  ne- 

cessary  to  refuse  it  on  the  instant. 


I  hitd  intended  to  have  done  so  over  night. 
But  I  would  not  speak  till  I  had  consulted 
yoli,  dearest,  of  course.     And    I  could  not 


Stop,  Margaret !  "  she  cried,  in  her  des- 
peration ;  "  stop  a  moment ;  that  will  never 


get  an  opportunity  of  doing  that  till  now  ;  do.  I  would  rather  not  see  Mr.  Falconer  to- 
80  tliat  we  shall  be  pressed  for  time  in  the  ;  morrow  morning.  I  cannot  do  it  ;  indeed  I 
morning:.     And  what  1  want  is,  that  if  1  am    cannot!  " 


with    papa  when  he  comes,  you  should  re 
ceive  him,  and  " — 

"  You  do  not  want 
him  " — 

Again  the  thunder-cloud  passed  over  the 
fair  face,  and  the  evil-looking  lightning 
flashed  from  the  superb  eyes.  But  it  was 
only  for  a  fragment  of  a  moment. 

"  Pooh  !  make  yourself  easy,  Kate  !  I  only 
want  you  to  compromise  yourself  so  far  as 
to  bid  him  good-morning,  and  tell  him  that 
I  am  speaking  with  papa,  and  that  the  coast 
will  be  clear  ibr  him  in  a  minute." 

But  the  statement  of  the  duty  thus  as- 
signed to  her  did  not  by  any  means  tend  to 
make  Kate  "  easy,"  as  Margaret  had  so  flip- 
pantly said.  It  led  her,  on  the  contrary,  to 
the  CDnsidcration  that  even  thus,  at  the  very 
outset,  she  would  be  taking  an  active  part  in 
promoting  an  engagement  between  her  sister 
and  Falconer,  she  being  in  possession  of  in- 
formation which  she  was  very  sure  would 
have  prevented  him  from  contemplating  any- 
thing of  the  kind,  if  he  had  shared  it.  Some- 
thing must,  of  course,  be  said  on  the  subject 
between  her  and  Falconer.  And  what  could 
ehe  say  ?  lIow  could  she  so  guide  herself  as 
not  to  be  guilty,  in  her  sister's  behalf,  of  that 
which,  on  her  own  behalf,  she  had  kept  her- 
self clear  from  at  the  cost  of  so  much  agony 
and  self-denial "?  How  was  this  to  be  done? 
And  as  these  thoughts  rushed  through  her 
brain,  her  heart  sank  within  her. 

But  Margaret  had  meanwhile  risen  from 
her  seat,  and  was  leaving  the  room  with  a 
nodded  "  Good-night,"  as  considering  that 
her  last  words  had  quite  sufficiently  settled 
the  programme  for  the  following  morning, 
arKi  that  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  said 
on  tlie  subject.     Kate  felt  that  it  was  impos- 


The  words  seem  plain  enough.  But  words 
are  but  symbols,  plain  only  to  those  agreed 
to  say  anything  to  |  upon  the  ideas  they  are  used  to  symbolize. 
One  man  says,  I  told  such  and  such  things 
to  another ;  and  he  takes  it  for  granted 
that  he  put  into  the  mind  of  that  other  the 
thoughts  that  were  in  his  own.  But  the  eye 
can  see  only  that  which  it  is  given  to  it  to 
see  ;  and  the  mind  can  conceive  only  the  ideas 
which  it  is  capable  of  conceiving.  And  Mar- 
garet accordingly  interpreted  Kate's  words 
according  to  the  key  supplied  by  her  own 
head  and  heart. 

"  Why,  Kate  !  I  had  no  idea  of  this,"  she 
said,  turning  round  at  the  door  of  the  room ; 
"  upon  my  word  I  had  not ;  "  and  as  she 
spoke,  there  was  a  strange  contradiction  be- 
tween the  expression  of  her  eyes  and  that  of 
her  mouth.  The  former  spoke  with  their 
usual  eloquence  of  grave  and  regretful  sym- 
pathy, while  an  irrepressible  smile  of  grati- 
fied triumph  and  conscious  superiority  man- 
tled about  the  latter.  And  it  was  a  curious 
fact  that  the  former  feature  told  the  lie  that 
was  needed,  in  their  owner's  opinion,  for  the 
occasion,  while  it  was  left  to  the  latter  to  tell 
the  unsuppressible  truth.  In  the  case  of 
most  performers  the  reverse  would  in  all 
probability  have  been  the  case.  It  was  not 
so  with  Margaret.  Most  of  the  lies  she  told 
were  told  by  her  eyes, — those  beautiful  large 
eyes, — tender,  confiding,  beseeching,  fierce, 
vindictive,  languishing  by  turns.  They  and 
the  expression  of  them,  were  more  under  the 
perfect  and  habitual  control  of  the  mistress, 
who  made  such  frequent  and  such  efi'ective 
use  of  them  than  even  the  muscles  of  that 
habitual  telltale  of  the  affections,  the  mouth, 
which  in  that  lovely  young  face  could  speak 
lies,  but  had  not  yet  acquired  the  habit  of 


Bible  for  her  to  accept  the    part  assigned  to  I  looking  them. 

her.     A  whole  vista  of  similar  and  still  worse  I      But  Kate  was  too  much  engrossed  bv  her 


160 

own  painful  thoughts,  and  too  little  in  the 
habit  of  meeting  with  or  suspecting  falsehood 
anywhere,  to  note  that  her  meaning  had  been 
misapprehended.  And  when  Margaret,  in  ac- 
cents of  ill-concealed  triumph  and  gratifica- 
tion, went  on  to  say  that  if  that  were  indeed 
the  state  of  the  case,  she  would  not  for  the 
world  expose  Kate  to  the  pain  of  such  an  in- 
terview ;  and  that,  after  all,  it  would  be  quite 
sufficient  if  Banting  were  to  tell  Falconer,  on 
his  arrival,  that  Miss  Margaret  was  with  her 
papa,  and  that  the  squire  would  be  happy 
to  see  him  if  he  would  wait  a  few  minutes  ; 
Kate  was  delighted  to  catch  at  such  a  means 
of  escape,  and  assented  thankfully  to  the  ar- 
rangement. 

So  the  sisters  parted  for  the  night,  Kate 
determining  that  she  would  not  appear  in  the 
morning  till  after  breakfast,  when  Falconer 
should  have  left  the  house  ;  and  Margaret 
victorious,  and  congratulating  herself  on  the 
masterly  manner  in  which  she  had  brought 
to  a  successful  termination  an  interview  to 
which  she  had  looked  forward  with  so  much 
apprehension. 

But  it  was  long  before  either  of  the  sisters 
fell  asleep.  Kate's  mind  was  busy  with  pain- 
ful previsions  of  the  embarrassments  and  dif- 
ficulties which  seemed  to  unfold  themselves 
before  her  in  more  and  more  threatening 
numbers  and  proportions,  the  more  she  medi- 
tated on  the  subject.  And  Margaret  set  to 
work  to  review  her  position  and  Kate's  con- 
duct as  regarded  by  the  aid  of  the  new  light, 
which,  she  fancied,  had  been  thrown  upon 
the  subject  by  Kate's  last  words. 

''So,  so,  so,  so!"  thought  she,  "that's 
the  explanation,  then,  of  all  the  difficulties 
and  scruples  and  pack  of  nonsense  ;  is  it  ? 
"Well !  It  is  quite  as  well  to  know  it.  But 
I  think  I  can  distance  Miss  Kate  at  one  game 
as  easily  as  I  have  done  at  another.  Yes  !  I 
am  glad  I  know  how  the  land  lies  I  " 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
SPEAKING   TO    PAPA. 

Margaret  was  a  frequent  offender  against 
that  primal  law  of  the  Lindisfarn  social  code, 
which  commanded  that  all  those  who  lived 
under  it  should  appear  in  the  breakfast-room, 
what  time  the  uncorruptibly  punctual  Mr. 
Banting,  wlio  never  delegated  that  important 
function  to  any  inferior  hand,  rang  the  morn- 
ing bell.    Margaret  was  a  frequent  and  almost 


NDISFARN    CHASE. 

privileged  offender  ;  for  how  could  the  great 
cardinal  virtue  of  coming  down  to  breakfast 
punctually  in  time  be  expected  from  one  who 
was  not  only  not  "  Sillshire,"  but  not  even 
English-bred  ? 

But  on  the  morning  after  the  conversation 
recorded  in  the  last  chapter.  Miss  JMargaret 
was  up  betimes.  The  squire  was  understood 
to  be  generally  in  his  "  study  "  half  an  hour 
or  so  before  breakfast  :  and  it  wanted  nearly 
as  much  as  that  to  the  morning  bell-ringing, 
when  Margaret,  not  altogether  without  a 
little  quickening  of  the  heart-pulse,  but  still 
with  an  exceedingly  creditable  degree  of  self- 
possession,  tripped  to  the  door  of  the  study, 
and  after  the  pause  before  it  of  some  half  a 
minute,  gave  a  little  tap  against  the  panel 
with  the  knuckles  of  her  slender  little  pink 
band. 

It  was  very  evident  that  Margaret's  early 
appearance  from  her  chamber  had  not  been 
obtained  at  the  cost  of  any  abbreviation  of 
the  cares  of  the  toilet.  To  do  her  justice,  it 
must  be  admitted  that  Margaret  had  retained 
enough  of  English  nature  and  Englitih  in- 
stinct, amid  the  influences  of  her  Parisian 
education,  to  preserve  her  from  the  abomi- 
nable continental  sin  of  compensating  finery 
for  show  hours  by  slovenliness  in  hours  of 
privacy.  She  was  always  Hree  a  quatre  ep- 
inc/lcs  ; — always  dressed  with  perfect  fresh- 
ness and  taste.  But  on  the  present  occasion, 
an  educated  eye  would  at  once  have  ob- 
served that  the  exquisitely  pretty  toilette  de 
matin  in  which  she  appeared  at  the  squire's 
study  door  was  the  result  of  more  than 
usual  care  and  consideration.  There  was  a 
candor,  gentleness, — nay,  even  a  sort  of  fore- 
shadowing of  young  matronhood,  in  the  pale, 
glossy  folds  of  the  pearl-gray  silk  dress, 
lighted  up,  as  by  a  flash  of  passionate  girli 
hood,  by  the  rich,  deep  rose-colored  necktie, 
and  tiny  wrist-knots,  which  set  oflf  so  admi- 
rably the  fair  wearer's  marble  white  throat 
and  hands.  Then  there  was  a  modish  little 
scrap  of  a  rich  black  silk  apron  whose  girdle 
helped  to  call  the  eye  to  the  outline  of  the 
slenderest  of  Avaists,  while  it  gave  just  the 
slightest  flavor  of  housewifery  to  the  entire 
composition.  The  dark  satiny  hair  was 
dressed  as  charmingly  as  usual ;  but  there  was 
a  little  tribute  to  sentiment  in  one  smoothly 
rolled  ringlet,  rather  too  regular  in  outline 
to  be  quite  innocent  of  the  irons,  which 
strayed   from  under  the  mass  of  plaits  and 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


161 


rested  on  the  pearl-gray  bodice.  In  truth, 
Margaret's  costuiue  on  the  morning  in  ques- 
tion was  a  grand  success,  in  which  every 
slight  artistic  touch  had  its  importance,  from 
the  piquant  rosette  on  her  slipper  to  the  de- 
mure little  black  velvet  jcannctic,  with  tiny 
gold  cross  and  heart,  then  a  recent  importa- 
tion from  France,  which  encircled  her  alabas- 
ter throat. 

The  squire's  hearty,  jovial  voice  from 
within,  in  a  tone  like  that  of  a  somewhat 
modified  view-holloa,  bade  her  "  Come  in, 
whoever  you  are,"  in  answer  to  her  modest 
tap  ;  and  on  opening  the  door,  she  found  the 
old  gentleman  standing  with  his  legs  wide 
asunder  on  the  rug,  with  his  back  to  the 
"  study  "  fire,  busy  in  putting  a  new  lash  to 
a  dog-whip,  holding  the  while  the  end  of  the 
bit  of  whipcord  between  his  teeth. 

The  squire,  with  his  tall  and  well-grown 
person,  his  clear,  healthy,  rosy  complexion, 
and  his  handsome  features,  with  the  kindly 
beam  from  his  honest,  laughing  blue  eye, 
his  pleasant  smile,  and  his  reverend  silver 
locks,  was  as  attractive  a  presentment  of  age, 
as  was  Margaret  of  youth.  But  somehow  or 
other,  they  did  not  give  an  impression  of  be- 
ing well-assorted.  Very  great,  mysteriously 
great,  is  the  power  of  that  education  which 
is  imparted  to  human  beings  by  all  the 
united  influences  of  everything  that  sur- 
rounds them  during  the  process  of  develop- 
ment from  childhood  to  man  and  womanhood. 
It  is  so  great  as  to  throw  doubt  on  all  our 
speculations  respecting  the  possible  identity 
or  divergence  of  races.  Here  were  two  twin 
children  ;  Sillshirc  had  made  one  of  them 
into  our  darling  peerless  Kate,  and  Paris  had 
made  the  other  into  our  incomparable  Mar- 
guerite !  African  and  Caucasian  !  Ham  and 
Japhet !  Why,  had  not  the  skin  of  the 
Paris  girl  already  become  of  a  different  color 
and  texture  from  that  of  the  Sillshire  lass  ? 
Psychological  differences  !  I  should  think 
there  were  psychological  differences, — capa- 
ble of  being  tolerably  satisfactorily  described 
by  a  shorter  word  !  Physiological  characteris- 
tics !  I  only  know  that  Kate  used  always  to 
seem  to  carry  about  with  her  an  atmosphere 
redolent  of  hedge-roses  and  the  morning  dew 
on  the  swectbrier,while  Margaret  scented  the 
fanning  breeze  with  bouquet  dc  milleflcurs.  I 
believe  that  if  her  blood  had  been  analyzed, 
a  residuum  of  the  oxyde  or  chloride  of  bou- 

11 


quct  dc  millojluers,  or  some  such  thing,  windd 
have  been  found  in  it. 

Kate  Lindisfarn  by  tlic  side  of  her  fatlier 
always  seemed  the  due  and  thoroughly  satis- 
factory completion  of  an  admirably  com- 
posed picture.  The  group  was  thoroughly 
harmonious.  There  was  no  such  harmony, 
no  such  artistic  keeping  in  the  group  formed 
by  Margaret  and  the  squire. 

None  the  less  kindly,  on  that  account, 
however,  was  the  squire's  greeting  as  Mar 
garet  entered  his  study  on  the  occasion  in 
question. 

"What,  Margaret!"  he  cried,  in  the 
mellow  but  somewhat  stentorian  tones,  to 
which  his  Parisian  daughter  confessed  she 
had  not  yet  been  able  to  accustom  or  recon- 
cile herself;  but  he  had  never  once,  since  that 
evening  of  Marguerite's  first  arrival,  relapsed 
into  the  sin  of  calling  her  '•  Margy," — 
"  what,  Margaret  !  you  afoot  so  early  this 
morning?  What's  in  the  wind  now  ?  And 
upon  my  word,  what  a  picture  of  a  dress! 
I  make  you  my  compliments  on  the  success 
of  your  toilet,  my  dear  !  Come  and  let  me 
have  a  closer  look  at  you  !  " 

And  as  he  spoke,  the  squire,  holding  the 
handle  of  his  dog-whip  in  one  hand,  and  the 
end  of  the  lash  in  the  other,  playfully  threw 
it  over  her  head,  so  as  to  encircle  her  waist, 
and  draw  her  thus  imprisoned  towards  him. 
Margaret  gave  a  little  uneasy  wriggle,  very 
plainly  expressive  of  her  not  altogether  un- 
pardonable fear  that  the  usage  she  was  being 
subjected  to  might  inflict  damage  on  some 
portion  of  the  work  of  art  on  which  so 
much  pains  had  been  bestowed.  The  squire 
pjerceived  it,  and  after  impressing  one  kiss  on 
her  forehead,  very  much  with  the  air  and  ac- 
tion of  a  man  walking  on  eggs,  released  her. 

"  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you,  papa,  if  I 
may  ;  and  I  thought  that  this  would  be  the 
most  convenient  time  for  catching  you." 

"  Any  time,  any  time,  my  dear  !  But 
what  is  it,  my  dear  child  ?  "  said  the  squire, 
somewhat  nervously  ;  for  he  could  not  im- 
agine what  could  be  coming,  and  had  a  kind 
of  presentiment  that  something  at  or  about 
the  Chase  was  going  to  be  complained  of. 

"  I  will  only  trouble  you  a  very  few  min- 
utes, papa" — 

"  As  many  as  ever  you  like,  my  darling  I 
We  have  five-and-twenty  before  Banting  rings 
the  breakfast-bell!"  said   the  squire,  look- 


162 

ing  at  his  great  silver  hunting- watch,  and 
seeming  to  consider  that  length  of  time  as  an 
infinity  beyond  which  no  imaginable  confer- 
ence could  prolong  itself. 

Margaret  did  not  exhibit  any  degree  of 
unusual  emotion  or  embarrassment.  She  did 
not  bite  her  thumbs,  or  more  elegantly  hide 
her  face  on  her  father's  shoulder.  She  cast 
down  her  eyes,  however,  beneath  their  long 
and  silky  lashes,  with  a  very  pretty  little 
bending  of  her  arched  neck,  and  twining  the 
tasselled  cord  of  her  apron  round  her  two 
forefingers  as  she  thus  stood  by  her  father's 
side,  she  said,  in  a  very  demure,  but  yet  in  a 
sufficiently  businesslike,  manner, — 

"  Yesterday,  papa,  I  received  a  proposal 
which,  of  course,  it  is  my  first  duty  to  com- 
municate to  you  immediately." 

"  A  proposal,  my  child  !  What,  you  don't 
mean  a  proposal  of  marriage?  " 

"  Yes,  papa  ;  it  was  a  proposal  of  mar- 
riage. Although,  according  to  the  ideas  of 
those  among  whom  1  was  educated,  it  is 
proper  that  such  a  proposal  should  be  made 
in  the  first  case  to  the  parents  of  the  young 
person ,  I  believe  that  it  is  in  this  country 
considered  permissible  to  address  such  a 
comm-unication  to  herself." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  squire,  scratching  his 
head,  and  looking  at  his  exquisitely  elegant 
daughter  with  a  mixture  of  admiration  and 
curiosity,  "  in  this  country  we  generally 
make  love  to  the  girls  themselves,  rather 
than  to  their  fathers  and  mothers.  But  who 
is  it,  my  pretty  one,  who  has  asked  for  the 
present  of  that  pretty  little  hand  ?  Who  is 
the  bold  man  ?  And  what  answer  did  he 
get  from  '  the  young  person  '  herself?  " 

"  It  is  Mr.  Frederick  falconer,  papa  ;  of 
course  my  answer  necessarily  was  that  he 
must  apply  to  you." 

"  Apply  to  me  ?  Well !  Yes — that  is  all 
right  and  proper,  very  proper  !  But  I  sup- 
pose the  young  gentleman  wanted  some  an- 
swer from  you  first." 

"  But  of  course,  you  know,  papa,  I  could 
give  him  none — except  altogether  condition- 
ally on  your  approval  and  pleasure." 

"  And  was  he  contented  with  that  ?  "  said 
the  squire,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  clear  blue 
eye,  and  a  look  which  was  meant  to  be  the 
quintessence  of  archness. 

Margaret,  however,  did  not  give  the  slight- 
est countenance  to  any  unbecoming  levity,  by 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


responding  in  any  way  to  these  demonstra- 
tions. 

"  From  all  that  I  have  seen  of  Mr.  Falcon- 
er, papa,  and  still  more  from  what  I  have 
heard  of  him,  especially  from  my  aunt.  Lady 
Sempronia,  since  I  have  been  in  this  coun- 
try, I  should  be  led  to  suppose  that  he  would 
not  expect  any  other  reply  from  me,"  re- 
turned Margaret,  with  a  grave  propriety  of 
accent  and  bearing  that  the  old  squire  felt 
to  be  a  slap  in  the  face  for  his  improper  lev- 

"  But  if  I  am  to  give  him  his  answer,  my 
dear  child,"  he  said,  more  gravely,  "  I  at 
least  must  first  learn  from  you  what  sort  of 
answer  you  would  wish  it  to  be." 

"  In  that,  my  dear  father,  I  should  wish 
to  be  entirely  guided  by  your  superior  knowl- 
edge and  by  your  advice." 

The  squire  scratched  his  head,  and  stared 
at  her  with  the  blank,  puzzled  look  of  a  man 
suddenly  called  upon  to  act  in  the  midst  of  a 
whole  world  of  circumstances  entirely  new 
to  him. 

"  Well !  That  is  all  very  right  and  prop- 
er," he  said  at  last;  "  and  I  am  sure,  my 
dear,  I  shall  be  most  happy — that  is,  as  far 
as  my  power  goes, — but,  you  see,  the  first 
question  is,  it  seems  to  me —  But  what  does 
Kate  think  about  it  ?  "  he  added,  briskly,  as 
the  bright  idea  struck  him  that  her  media- 
tion between  himself  and  the  embarrassingly 
superfine  propriety  of  his  Parisian  daughter 
might  powerfully  tend  to  facilitate  matters. 

"  I  believe  my  sister  has  a  very  good  opin- 
ion of  Mr.  Falconer,"  replied  Margaret; 
and  a  slight  passing  fliush,  that  passed  across 
her  face  as  she  said  the  words,  was  the  first 
sign  of  emotion  of  any  sort  which  she  had 
betrayed  since  entering  her  father's  room. 

"  Yes  ;  I  have  a  very  good  opinion  of  Mr. 
Falconer  too,"  replied  the  squire.  "  I  have 
known  him  from  a  boy.  I  never  knew  any 
ill  of  him.  And  I  have  heard  much  good. 
I  believe  he  has  always  been  a  very  good  son. 
I  don't  know  that  he  is  exactly  the  man  I 
should  fall  in  love  with,  if  I  were  a  young 
lady.  But  then,"  continued  the  squire, 
quite  gravely, — for  he  had  no  inclination  to 
incur  a  second  reprimand  for  levity,  and  was 
in  truth  applying  himself  to  the  task  imposed 
upon  him  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  —  "  but 
then  God  only  knows  what  1  should  do  or 
should  feel,  if  I  were  a  young  lady.     I  sup- 


LINDISFARiN    CHASE. 


pose  most  things  would  seem  very  different 
to  me  then,  you  know.  I  can't  say  I  like 
Fred's  seat  in  the  saddle.  And  Mr.  I\Iat  says 
he  is  Jemmy  Jessamy.  But  then  perhaps 
you  don't  care  about  his  riding  ;  and  you  are 
not  bound  to  follow  Mr.  Mat's  opinion.  If 
it  were  Kate  now,  the  way  he  sits  his  horse 
might  count  for  something." 

"  I  do  not  think  my  sister  would  consider 
Mr.  Falconer's  mode  of  riding  any  objection 
to  him  in  the  point  of  view  which  is  now 
under  consideration,  papa,"  replied  Mar- 
garet ;  and  while  she  was  speaking,  the 
slight  flush  again  passed  over  her  face, 
accompanied  this  time  by  an  almost  imper- 
ceptible toss  of  the  head. 

It  occurred  to  the  squire's  recollection  at 
that  moment,  that  he  had  heard  his  old  friend 
Lady  Farnleigh  call  Freddy  Falconer  a  prig  : 
and  the  thought  did  flash  across  his  mind  for 
an  instant,  accompanied  rather  than  followed 
by  a  self-accusing  feeling  of  penitence  for 
having  conceived  it,  that  perhaps  he  and  his 
foreign-bred  daughter  were  all  the  better 
adapted  to  each  other  on  that  account. 

But  he  only  said  in  answer  to  jNIargaret's 
last  words,  "I  dare  say  not,  my  dear, — I 
dare  eay  not.  x\nd,  really,  my  dear  child, 
I  do  not  know  that  I  can  say  anything 
more  or  better  to  you  on  the  subject  than 
that,  if  he  has  contrived  to  win  that  quiet, 
undemonstrative  little  heart  of  yours,  I 
do  not  know  of  any  objection  to  him. 
I  do  conscientiously  believe  him  to  be  a  very 
good  young  man.  And  that,  I  take  it,  is 
about  all  that  I  ought  to  look  to  in  the  mat- 
ter. The  rest  is  your  own  affair  ;  and  can 
only  be  decided  by  yourself.  In  this  country, 
my  dear,  we  think  that  love  should  precede 
marriage  as  well  as  follow  it ;  and  I  own  that 
I  should  be  very  sorry  to  see  you  marry  any 
man  to  whom  you  were  not  sincerely  at- 
tached. But  if  Fred  Falconer  has  really 
been  able  to  make  himself  agreeable  to  you, 
as  I  said  before,  I  do  not  know  any  just  cause 
or  impediment  why  you  two  should  not 
be  joined  together  in  holy  matrimony  ;"  thus 
bringing  to  a  conclusion — neatly  and  forcibly, 
as  he  flattered  himself — the  longest  oration, 
in  all  probability,  which  he  ever  had  uttered  ; 
though  his  sense  of  rhetorical  propriety 
would  have  been  more  completely  satisfied, 
if  the  circumstances  of  the  occasion  would 
have  allowed  him  to  add  the  words,  "he  is 
now   to  declare  it."     Still,  the  squire  was 


163 

contented  with  his  effort ;  and  having  clearly 
expressed  his  views  on  the  subject,  and  at  the 
same  time  done,  as  it  seemed  to  his  mind,  due 
homage  to  the  seriousness  of  the  occasion  by 
winding  up  his  period  and  the  subject  with 
the  time-honored  and  quasi  semi-sacred  for- 
mula he  had  hit  on,  he  appeared  to  consider 
that  he  had  said  and  done  all  that  was  or 
could  be  then  and  there  expected  of  him  ia 
the  premises. 

But  it  was  now  Margaret's  turn  to  look 
into  her  father's  face  with  blank  and  puzzled 
surprise.  To  her  comprehension  of  the  mat- 
ter, he  had  been  babbling  upon  a  variety  of 
trifling  and  at  all  events  secondary  matters, 
to  the  total  forgetfulness  of  the  one  thing 
needful.  Not  a  word  or  an  allusion  to 
the  point  which  ought  to  form  the  main 
and  special  object  of  the  solicitude  of  any 
right-principled  father  or  guardian!  Or 
was  it  that  the  squire,  being  as  a  prudent 
father  should  be,  perfectly  well-informed  ad 
to  the  fortunes,  prospects,  and  expectations 
of  every  young  man  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
having  the  knowledge  that  things  were  satis- 
factory in  this  respect  in  the  case  of  Fred 
Falconer,  thought  that  she,  Margaret,  was 
too  young  and  too  silly  to  be  spoken  with  on 
such  a  subject?  If,  indeed,  her  father  were 
unprincipled  enough  to  neglect  his  duty  to 
his  child,  and  leave  her  unprotected  in  this 
respect,  it  was  the  more  necessary  that  she 
should  take  care  of  herself.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  second  hypothesis  were  the  true 
one,  and  the  fact  were  that  her  father  deemed 
her  still  too  much  of  a  child  to  speak  to  on 
matters  of  serious  business,  she  was  not  at  all 
sorry  to  have  an  opportunity  of  showing  him 
that  such  was  by  no  means  the  case. 

So  she  said,  first  raising  her  eyes  for  one 
quick,  observant  glance  into  his  face,  and  then 
dropping  theta  on  the  floor,  as  she  stood  in 
front  of  him,  "  I  suppose,  papa,  that  you 
would  disapprove  of  any  marriage  that  was 
not  a  suitable  one  in  point  of  fortune  and 
position.  I  have  always  been  educated  to 
believe  that  no  happiness  can  be  expected 
from  any  such  union,  and  that  nothing  ia 
more  unpardonable,  in  a  well-brought-up 
young  person,  than  the  slightest  thought 
even  of  forming  such  a  mesalliance.  But  of 
course  I  know  nothing  about  such  matters. 
It  is  my  duty  to  leave  all  such  entirely  in 
your  hands." 

The  old  squire  felt  as  if  there  would  bo 


164 

nothing  left  for  him  but  to  listen  meekly  and 
strive  to  profit  by  it,  if  the  astonishingly"  well- 
brought-up  young  person,"  standing  then  on 
the  rug  before  him,  had  seen  fit  to  favor  him 
with  an  exposition  of  the  whole  duty  of 
man. 

So  he  replied,  with  no  little  feeling  of  awe 
for  that  exquisitely  dressed  incarnation  of 
perfect  propriety,  "Of  course,  my  dear 
Margaret,  of  course  !  It  is  a  very  necessary 
consideration.  Happily,  I  believe  that  in  the 
present  case  there  is  no  cause  for  any  hesita- 
tion on  that  score.  No  doubt  Master  Freddy 
will  be  very  comfortably  well  off." 

"I  suppose,  papa,  you  will  think  it  right 
to  be  very  explicit  in  speaking  on  this  topic 
with  ^Ir.  Frederick  Falconer?  "  and  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  name  was  pronounced  suc- 
ceeded in  administering  a  fitting  reproof  to 
the  old  gentleman  for  the  irreverence  he  had 
permitted  himself  in  speaking  of  his  august 
daughter's  intended  as     Master  Freddy." 

"  Well,  my  dear ;  I  have  always  under 
stood,  and  indeed  I  may  say  I  know  that 
old  Falconer  is  more  than  well  off, — that  he 
is  a  wealthy  man ;  and  Frederick  is  his  only 
son.  But  of  course  the  lawyers  must  have  a 
finger  in  the  pie,  before  it  comes  out  of  the 
oven,  and  it  will  be  for  them  to  look  into  the 
matter  properly." 

"Yes,  papa.  And  is  it  not  the  mode  in 
England  for  the  lawyers  to  write  down  all 
about  it,  before  the  marriage  is  arranged?  " 
inquired  his  daughter,  with  charming  girlish 
naweU. 

"  Quite  so,  my  dear.  Settlements,  we  call 
them.  The  settlements  must  be  made  prop- 
erly, of  course." 

"  And  all  that  I  have,  or  ever  shall  have, 
must  be  written  down  in  them,  too,  must  it 
not,  papa?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  I  suppose  so.  I  am  not 
much  of  a  lawyer  ;  but  I  suppose  that  is  the 
proper  way." 

"  And  you  call  it  by  such  a  funny  name  ! 
Tying  up !  I  have  heard  dear  Madame  de 
Renneville  talk  of  tying  up.  I  remember  it 
because  it  is  such  a  queer  expression.  I  sup- 
pose the  lawyers  must  tie  me  up,  papa?  " 
she  said,  raising  her  eyes  as  she  spoke,  and 
shooting  point-blank  into  the  squire's  face  a 
sunny  beam  of  girlish  mirth.  And  again, 
the  same  strange  phenomenon  occurred,  which 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


mouth  did  not  join  in  the  smile  of  her  eyes, 
but  remained  quite  gravely  busied  about  the 
serious  business  in  hand.  It  needed,  how- 
ever, a  far  more  observant  and  skilled  physi- 
ognomist than  the  squire  to  take  note  of  this. 
He  was  divided  between  pleased  admiration; 
of  the  exceeding  prettiness  of  the  face  and 
figure  before  him,  and  marvelling  admiration 
of  the  range  of  knowledge  a  '■'■  jeune  personne 
Men  elevee"  might  be  expected  to  possess. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  !  You  must  be  tied  up,  I 
suppose,  as  you  say  ;  or  at  least  your  fortune 
must.  And,  by  the  by,  that  brings  me  to  a 
point  which  I  can  hardly  say,  I  think,  that 
I  ever  considered  at  all,  so  much  has  it  al- 
ways been  in  my  mind  as  a  matter  of  course. 
I  have  but  you  and  Kate,  my  child,  you  know, 
and  there  is  neither  oldest  nor  youngest  be- 
tween ye.  Of  course,  all  I  have  will  be  yours 
between  you.  And  the  matter  never  has 
come  into  my  mind  in  any  other  light.  But 
what  you  say  about  settlements  puts  it  into 
my  head  that  the  sharing  of  the  property 
between  you  is  not  a  matter  of  course,  but 
depends  on  my  will." 

Margaret's  eyes  were  by  this  time  quite 
concealed  beneath  their  long,  drooping  lashes ; 
but  her  mouth  was  more  seriously  occupied 
with  the  business  in  hand  than  ever.  For  an 
instant,  Margaret  feared  that  she  had,  per- 
haps, been  injudicious  in  leading  her  father, 
as  she  had  purposely  and  with  admirable 
skill  done,  to  speak  on  the  subject  of  his  in- 
tentions respecting  his  property. 

"  Of  course,"  the  squire  went  on  to  say, 
"  I  never  had  any  thought  upon  the  matter 
but  that  you  would  share  and  share  alike. 
But  for  that  to  be  so,  I  must  make  it  so ! 
And  if  settlements  are  to  be  made  I  must 
make  it  so  then.  Afterward  I  should  have 
no  power  to  alter  the  arrangement,"  added 
the  squire,  speaking  somewhat  gravely. 

"  It  would  never  have  entered  into  my 
head,  of  course,  papa,  to  think  of,  much  less 
to  inquire  into,  your  intentions  on  the  sub- 
ject. Only  it  seemed  possible  that  Mr.  Fal- 
coner, or  his  father  for  him,  might  think  it 
right  to  know  my  position  in  this  respect." 

' '  Has  anything  been  said  to  you  on  the 
subject?"  inquired  the  squire.  He  would 
never  have  dreamed  of  making  such  an  in- 
quiry of  his  Sillshire  Kate.  But  he  was  be- 
ginning to  feel  as  if  he  should  not  be  a  bit 


had    been  observable    in    this    remarkable  I  surprised  if  it  should  turn  out  to  be  the  cor- 
"  young  person  "  on  a  former  occasion.     Her  rect  thing  for  a  '■'■  jcune  personne  bien  clevee,'" 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


upon  an  occasion  such  as  the  present,  to  pull 
out  of  a  dainty  little  apron-pocket  a  rough 
draft  of  a  settlement  ready  prepared  by  her 
own  fair  fingers. 

"Oh,  110,  papa  !  not  a  syllabic  !  I  am  sure 
Mr.  Falconer  would  not  have  been  guilty  of 
such  an  indelicacy  for  the  whole  world  !  In- 
deed, I  think  that  in  all  probability  he  has 
not  given  a  thought  to  the  subject.  But  his 
father,  you  know,  papa,  will  probably  wish 
to  knoAv." 

"Of  course,  my  dear!  And  it  is  quite 
right  and  necessary  that  he  should  know  ; 
and  quite  proper  that  Mast — that  Mr.  Fred- 
crick  should  wish  to  know  too.  I  only  said 
that  tlie  matter  presented  itself  to  my  mind 
for  the  first  time.  Well,  I  think  I  may  say 
that  I  shall  be  ready  to  tell  Mr.  Falconer  that 
I  am  prepared  to  settle  on  you,  upon  your 
marriage  with  his  son,  one-half  of  this  prop- 
erty. As  for  what  I  may  be  able  to  do  for 
you  during  my  lifetime,  it  would  require  a 
more  leisurely  consideration,  you  know  " — 

"  Oh,  of  course,  papa,  of  course !  I  am 
sure  that  nothing  can  be  farther  from  Fred- 
erick's intention  than  to  dream  of  speaking 
to  you  upon  any  such  subject  when  he  comes 
to  speak  to  you  this  morning." 

"  This  morning  !  Bless  my  soul  !  Is  he 
coming  this  morning?"  cried  the  squire, 
rather  startled. 

"  Yes  !  I  have  very  little  doubt  that  he  is 
at  the  Chase  already,  papa  !  He  was  so  im- 
patient !  I  could  hardly  prevent  him  from 
coming  up  here  last  night.  But  I  thought 
that  it  would  be  more  agreeable  to  you  to  see 
him  in  the  morning.  May  I  tell  him  that  he 
may  come  in  to  speak  with  you,  dear  papa?  " 
said  she,  casting  a  pleading  look  on  the 
squire  as  she  spoke. 

"  Of  course,  my  dear,  of  course  I  will  see 
him.  But  stay  one  moment,  Margaret. 
When  did  all  this  happen,  eh  ?  " 

"A//,  papa!"  she  answered,  with  the 
prettiest  little  half-shy,  half-laughing  glance 
into  his  face  that  it  is  possible  to  conceive, 
followed  by  the  demurest  dropping  of  the 
conscious  eyes  to  the  ground  ;  "  I  can  hardly 
tell  you  when  it  all  happened  !  But  it  was 
yesterday  at  my  uncle's  in  Silverton,  that — 
that — I  told  him  he  might  speak  to  you. 
May  1  tell  him  to  come  in,  papa?  I  am 
sure  he  is  waiting  most  anxiously  to  see 
you." 

"  Pray  tell  him  I  shall  be  most  happy  to 


165 

see  him,"  said  the  squire,  adding,  as  he 
once  again  looked  at  his  watch  ;  "  and,  dear 
me  !  the  sooner  the  better.  We  have  only 
five  minutes  left  before  the  bell  rings  !  " 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  quite  enough,  papa,  to 
give  your  consent  in !  "  said  the  jeune  pcr- 
sonnc  with  a  bright  smile,  tripping  to  the 
door  as  she  spoke. 

She  found  that  Frederick  had  been  true  to 
his  word, — of  which  she  had  not  felt  abso- 
lutely certain, —  and  had  already  arrived  at 
the  Chase.  All  had  passed  exactly  as  had 
been  settled  between  the  sisters  over  night. 
Kate  had  not  made  her  appearance.  She  had 
told  Simmons  to  make  her  excuses  to  Miss 
Immy,  and  tell  her,  what  was  perfectly  true, 
that  she  hardly  slept  all  night,  and  she  was 
now  endeavoring  to  get  a  little  sleep.  And 
Mr.  Banting  had,  as  instructed,  told  Mr. 
Frederick,  on  his  arrival,  that  Miss  Margaret 
was  in  her  papa's  study,  but  that,  if  he  would 
walk  into  the  breakfiist-room  for  a  few  min- 
utes, the  squire  would  then  be  happy  to  see 
him. 

I  suspect  from  a  certain  look  which, 
though  veiled  beneath  the  exterior  semblance 
of  perfectly  respectful  deference,  might  have 
been  detected  hanging  about  the  muscles  of 
Mr.  Banting's  face,  as  he  communicated  this 
intelligence  to  Mr.  Frederick,  that  that  well- 
trained  domestic  knew  the  nature  of  the 
business  which  had  brought  the  young  gen- 
tleman to  the  Chase  at  so  early  an  hour  as 
well  as  any  of  the  parties  more  immediately 
interested  in  it.  He  performed  his  part, 
however,  with  the  most  undeniable  propri- 
ety ;  and  Mr.  Frederick,  looking  as  little 
conscious  as  he  could,  awaited  his  summons 
in  the  breakfast-room,  devoutly  hoping  that 
neither  Miss  Immy,  nor  Kate,  and  still  less 
Mr.  Mat,  might  come  in  and  find  him  there 
before  he  should  be  called  to  the  squire's 
study. 

Margaret,  however,  flitted  into  the  room 
while  he  was  still  alone  there  ;  and  Freder- 
ick, with  a  glance  that  sufficed  to  prove  to 
her  that  the  care  she  had  bestowed  upon 
her  charming  toilet  had  by  no  means  been 
thrown  away  upon  him,  was  about  to  avail 
himself  of  some  of  the  little  privileges  which 
are  usually  understood  to  belong  to  the  pre- 
rogative of  an  accepted  lover.  But  Marga- 
ret, with  one  of  those  little  evolutions  which 
somteimes  seem  to  be  as  natural  and  as  easy 
to  girls  as  wriggling  is  to  eels,  and  sometimes 


166 

as  utterly  impossible  to  them  as  movement  is 
to  the  bird  fixed  by  the  fascination  of  the  eye 
of  a  serpent,  escaped  him,  saying  at  the  same 
time  in  great  haste, — 

"It  is  all  right,  my  own  !  I  have  seen 
papa  !  He  is  expecting  you  in  the  study. 
But  he  says  he  has  only  five  minutes  to  spare 
before  the  breakfast-bell  rings.  And  no 
earthly  consideration  would  induce  him  to 
abstain  from  coming  out  into  the  breakfast- 
room  directly  it  does  ring.  So  make  haste. 
Run  along  ;  you  know  the  way.  I  will  wait 
for  you  out  on  the  terrace." 

So  Frederick  did  as  he  was  bid  ;  and  found 
the  five  minutes  quite  enough  for  the  trans- 
action of  his  business  with  the  blunt  and 
simple-hearted  old  squire. 

"  How  do,  Fred,  my  boy?  "  said  the  old 
man,  extending  his  hand  to  him  in  cordial 
and  kindly  greeting  ;  "  glad  to  see  you — al- 
ways ;  and  not  sorry  to  see  you  on  the  busi- 
ness which  brings  you  here  this  morning." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Lindisfarn  !  If  I  have 
dared ' ' — 

"  Ay  !  Margaret  has  told  me  all  about  it  ! 
Well,  I  see  no  objection.  I  have  known 
you,  Fred,  man  and  boy,  since  you  wore  long 
clothes  ;  and  I  do  believe  that  I  may  as  safely 
trust  my  girl's  happiness  to  you  as  to  any 
man.  You  have  been  abroad  ;  and  some- 
times I  have  thought  that  you  brought  home 
with  you  some  foreign  ways  and  tastes.  If 
it  is  so,  perhaps  you  and  Margaret  may  be 
all  the  better  suited  to  each  other.  You 
know  pretty  well  what  to  look  to  with  her. 
I  have  no  thought,  and  never  had,  of  mak- 
ing any  difference  between  my  two  girls.  As 
to  what  you  can  say,  on  your  side,  and  as  to 
what  your  father  and  I  can  do  for  the  young 
household  before  the  old  birds  hop  the  twig, 
of  course  he  and  I  must  talk  it  over  togeth- 
er. But  as  far  as  I  can  see,  I  know  of  no 
objection  ;  and  I  wish  you  joy  with  all  my 
heart.  So  now  come  to  breakfast ;  for  Bant- 
ing will  ring  in  one  half-minute." 

Frederick,  however,  escaped  as  they  were 
crossing  the  hall,  and  ran  out  to  join  Mar- 
garet on  the  terrace. 

"  Nothing  can  be  kinder  than  your  father, 
my  own  darling  !  "  he  said.  ''  He  spoke  in 
the  frankest  and  kindest  manner  of  his  in- 
tentions towards  you  in  regard  to  property, 
and  such  matters.  But  of  course  I  cared 
little  to  listen  to  all  that,  having  other  things 
in  my  head,  and  was  heartily  glad  when  he 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


said  that  all  those  subjects  must  be  talked 
over  between  him  and  my  father." 

"  Will  you  not  come  in  to  breakfast,  dear- 
est? Kate  will  not  be  down.  You  must 
submit  to  be  congratulated  by  them  all  some- 
time or  other,  you  know." 

"  But  not  this  morning,  my  own  darling. 
I  cannot  stand  Mr.  Mat  this  morning.  It  is 
dreadful  to  have  to  tear  myself  away  from 
you.  But  there  would  be  no  pleasure  in 
sitting  by  you  under  the  eyes  of  all  the  par- 
ty at  breakfast ;  and  I  am  sure  you  had 
rather  be  spared  it." 

"  Well,  perhaps  you  are  right  !  Au  re- 
voir  then !  " 

And  as  they  had  by  that  time  reached  the 
corner  of  the  terrace,  where  there  was  a  spot 
not  commanded  by  the  breakfast-room  win- 
dows, or  any  others  likely  at  that  hour  to  be 
occupied,  she  permitted  him  to  encircle  her 
waist  with  his  arm  for  an  instant  long  enough 
(a  larigucur)  for  the  taking  of  one  kiss,  se- 
lected out  of  the  whole  scale  of  kisses  (which 
is  a  long  one) ,  with  a  view  to  its  exact  fitness 
to  the  proprieties  of  the  occasion,  and  then 
dismissed  him. 

Margaret  then  returned  to  undergo  the 
ordeal  of  the  breakfast-room  with  a  calmness 
inspired  by  a  sense  of  having  been  and  shown 
herself  perfect  mistress  of  the  situation,  and 
having,  at  least  thus  far,  managed  her  some- 
what difficult  afiPairs  with  the  hand  of  a  mas- 
ter. 

Frederick  returned  to  Silver  ton,  not  dis- 
contented, yet  not  so  thoroughly  well  pleased 
with  his  morning's  work  as  his  lady-love. 
He  had  a  certain  sense  of  having  been  out- 
generalled,  which  was  not  agreeable  to  him 
rather  from  the  hurt  it  inflicted  on  his  amour 
propre  than  from  any  real  reason  he  had  to 
be  dissatisfied  with  things  as  they  were.  He 
had  meant  to  win  Margaret ;  and  he  had  won 
her!  But  had  he  not  unnecessarily  "  put 
out  his  arm  further  than  he  could  draw  it 
back  again  ' '  ? 

It  was  not  till  he  reached  the  Ivy  Bridge 
at  the  bottom  of  the  ascent  to  Silverton  that 
it  occurred  to  him  that  what  JNIargaret  had 
said  about  receiving  the  congratulations  of 
the  party  assembled  in  the  breakfast-room 
implied  the  abandonment  of  that  plan  of 
keeping  their  engagement  secret  which  had 
been  agreed  on  between  them. 

And  Frederick  bit  his  lips  as  the  thought 
flashed  into  his  mind. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 
TUE  LINDISFARN   JAWBONE. 

Kate  Lindisfarn  was  an  especial  uivo"ite 
with  Dr.  Blakistry.  Tliere  was  nothing  odd 
in  that  ;  lor  she  was  an  especial  favorite  with 
all  the  country-side  in  general,  and  with  a 
singularly  large  number  of  individuals  of  all 
classes  in  particular.  But  the  doctor,  having 
neither  chick  nor  child,  as  the  phrase  goes, 
and  being  therefore  driven  to  look  abroad  for 
somewhat  to  care  for,  to  love,  and  to  pet, 
had  enlisted  himself  in  a  special  manner, 
and  assumed  a  foremost  place  in  the  motley 
corps  of  Kate's  devoted  slaves  and  adherents. 

Not  that  the  strength  of  this  allegiance 
had  been  needed  to  induce  Dr,  Blakistry  to 
ride  out  to  Dcepcreek  Cottage  and  give  the 
desperately  wounded  man  lying  dying  there, 
as  was  thought,  the  benefit  of  his  skill  and 
care ;  for  the  doctor  was  a  humane  man, 
and  indeed  somewhat  of  a  medical  Quixote, 
holding  and  acting  on  the  theory  that  the 
diploma  which  marked  him  as  a  student  of 
the  laws  of  nature,  and  dubbed  him  as  learned 
in  them,  constituted,  as  it  were,  his  letters 
of  ordination  as  a  high-priest  in  her  service, 
and  invested  him  with  the  mission,  the  privi- 
lege, and  the  duty  of  combating  with  human 
(physical)  error  and  suffering  wherever  it 
could  be  met  with.  He  would  gladly,  there- 
fore, have  turned  even  farther  aside  out  of 
his  way,  than  it  had  been  necessary  to  do,  to 
visit  the  wounded  smuggler,  in  whatever 
way  the  knowledge  of  his  case  had  reached 
him  ;  but  Kate's  summons  had  the  effect  of 
making  the  case  and  the  patient  additionally 
interesting  to  him. 

And  there  was  yet  another  cause  which, 
after  his  Grst  visit  to  Decpcreek  Cottage,  had 
operated  to  arouse  Blakistry's  curiosity  and 
give  him  yet  another  source  of  interest  in 
the  case.  The  excellent  M.  D.  was  an  en- 
thusiastic theorist,  as  M.  D.'s  mostly  will  be, 
who  aspire  to  be  anything  more  than  mere 
rule  of  thumb  practitioners,  and  as  M.  D.'s 
should  be,  so  long  as  they  can  love  their  the- 
ories only  second  best  after,  and  not  better 
than,  truth.  Dr.  Blakistry  was  an  enthusi- 
astic theorist.  And  some  of  his  theories  were 
wise ;  and  some  were  partially  so  ;  and  some 
were  but  fancy-bred  crotchets  ;  for  he  was 
but  a  mortal  M.  D,  after  all. 

Well,  one  of  Blakistry's  theories  was,  that 
certain  features  of  the  human  face  are  more 
liable  than  otliers   to  be  chancied  and  modi- 


167 

tied  in  the  transmission  from  one  generation 
to  another,  by  all  the  accidents  of  education 
and  mode  of  life  ;  and  that  others  are  much 
less  liable  to  alteration  from  such  circum- 
stances ;  that  they  are  more  persistent, 
therefore,  in  races  of  mankind  and  in  fam- 
ilies, and  more  trustworthy  as  guides  to 
probability  in  questions  of  filiations  and  the 
like.  The  jawbone,  and  especially  the  lower 
jawbone  was,  according  to  Dr.  Blakistry,  the 
most  reliable  feature  in  the  face  for  such 
purposes,  being  the  least  liable  to  alteration 
by  circumstances  befalling  the  individual 
subsequently  to  his  birth.  Now  it  so  hap- 
pened that  the  Lindisfarn  family  afforded 
the  doctor  a  case  strikingly  corroborative  of 
his  theory.  All  the  Lindisfarns,  however 
unlike  they  may  have  been  in  other  respects, 
had  their  lower  jawbones  of  the  same  shape. 
The  peculiarity  was  sufficiently  marked  to 
have  become  long  since  notorious  in  the 
country  ;  and  of  course,  to  the  eye  of  a  scien- 
tific observer  (and  one  whose  pet  theory  it 
especially  served  to  confirm),  it  was  yet  more 
noticeable. 

It  was  not  without  a  start  of  surprise, 
therefore,  that  Dr.  Blakistry  had,  in  the  first 
instant  of  his  looking  at  his  patient  in  Deep- 
creek  Cottage,  recognized  in  his  pale  and 
bandaged  face  the  true  Lindisfarn  jaw. 

Dr.  Blakistry  was  displeased.  Of  course 
he  was  !  What  business  had  this  smuggler 
from  the  coast  of  France  Avith  the  Lindisfarn 
jaw  ?  Was  he  to  come  there  with  his  jaw  to 
spoil,  or  at  least  injure,  one  of  the  finest  illus- 
tratory  cases  of  his  favorite  theory '?  And 
then,  as  the  doctor's  active  mind  went  to 
work  upon  the  subject,  he  began  to  think 
whether  it  might  be  possible  that  the  phe- 
nomenon under  his  observation  should  prove 
a  case  in  favor  of,  rather  than  one  militating 
against,  the  Blakistry  jawbonian  theory. 

It  was  a  strange  coincidence,  to  begin 
with,  tiiat  he  should  be  called  by  no  other 
than  Kate  Lindisfarn  to  visit  that  jawbone, 
so  unmistakable  to  him,  though  others  might 
easily  fail  to  observe  it  in  a  face  changed  by 
suffering,  disfigured  by  wounds,  and  par- 
tially concealed  by  bandages.  Mrs.  Pendle- 
ton was  Kate's  old  nurse.  True  !  But  was 
that  fact  to  be  accepted  as  sufficiently  ex- 
plaining so  curious  a  combination  of  circum- 
stances ?  And  then,  as  the  doctor  mused  on 
these  facts,  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  had 
heard  from  somebody  or  other,  since  he  had 


168  LINDISFARN 

settled  in  Silverton,  some  story  about  there 
having  once  been  a  male  heir  to  the  Lindis- 
farn  property, — a  son  of  the  canon's,  who 
had  gone  wrong,  and  had  died  in  America, — 
all  long  before  he,  Blakistry,  had  come  into 
that  part  of  the  country. 

"  Died  in  America.  Humph  !  Anyway, 
that  fellow  lying  there  with  the  broken  head 
has  the  Lindisfarn  jaw,  if  ever  a  man  had  ! 
Well,  Nature  knows  nothing  about  the 
legitimacy  or  illegitimacy  of  marriages  and 
births.  Who  can  tell?  Our  friend  at  the 
Chase  there,  old  Oliver,  was  young  once,  and 
did  not  marry  early,  as  I  have  heard.  Any- 
way— Mrs.  Pendleton  !  " 

The  last  words,  uttered  aloud,  were  the 
result  of  the  doctor's  soliloquy,  or  rather  of 
his  musings,  as  represented  by  the  above 
phrases  ;  and  they  were  uttered  as  he  was  on 
the  point  of  beginning  to  descend  the  steep, 
zigzag  path,  which  led  from  the  smuggler's 
abode  to  the  bottom  of  the  cliff,  where  he 
had  left  his  horse  in  charge  of  one  of  the 
Pendleton  children.  lie  turned  back  toward 
the  house  as  he  spoke,  and  Mrs.  Pendleton 
came  out  and  across  the  little  garden  to  meet 
him. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  that  young  fellow's 
recovery  if  due  care  is  taken,  as  I  have  told 
you.  The  patient's  constitution  seems  to  be 
singularly  old  for  his  apparent  years  ;  never- 


CHASE. 


And  here  the  doctor,  glancing  up  at  the 
little  bedroom  window,  which  was  open,  at 
no  great  distance  from  the  spot  where  they 
were  sj»eaking,  drew  Mrs.  Pendleton  a  few 
steps  down  the  zigzag  path,  so  as  to  be  safely 
out  of  the  sick  man's  hearing. 

— "Nevertheless,"  he  resumed,  "I  have 
little  fear  but  that  we  shall  bring  him  round. 
Still  as  it  will  in  all  probability  be  some  time 
before  he  is  able  to  be  moved,  and  as  it  may 
be  that  those  who  love  him  are  in  pain  and 
anxiety  about  him,  and  as  your  husband  him- 
self will  doubtless  be  anxious  to  hear  how  he 
is  going  on,  it  seems  very  desirable  that  he 
should  be  communicated  with  on  the  sub- 
ject." 

"  It  may  be  very  desirable,  sir ;  so  is  a 
many  other  things  in  this  world  ;  but  they 
can't  be  had  for  all  that,"  said  Mrs.  Pendle- 
ton, with  rather  a  hostile  and  defiant  air. 
"  When  Pendleton's  away,"  she  added,  "  I 
never  know  where  to  find  him  ;  over  in 
France,  as  likely  as  not !  " 


"Look  here,  Mrs.  Pendleton!  "  said  the 
doctor,  gazing  steadily,  but  with  a  pleasant 
smile,  into  her  face,  and  gradually  closing 
one  eye  till  that  feature  executed  a  wink  that 
ahorsedealer  might  have  been  proud  of, — 
"  look  here  !  I  am  not  a  lawyer,  nor  a  revenue 
ofiicer,  nor  a  magistrate,  nor  a  constable  !  I 
am  a  doctor.  My  business  all  the  world  over 
is  to  cure  trouble,  not  to  make  it  in  any  way 
or  kind.  Doctors  are  always  trusted.  You 
may  trust  me  !  " 

"  And  suppose  some  of  them  as  their  busi- 
ness is  to  hunt  an  honest  man  down  for  striv- 
ing to  earn  a  bit  of  bread  for  his  wife  and 
children  by  honest  labor  should  ask  you,  in 
the  name  of  the  law,  where  Hiram  Pendleton 
was  a-hiding  ;  what  should  you  say  ?  " 

"  What  should  you  say,  !Mrs.  Pendleton,  if 
they  were  to  ask  you  ?  " 

"I  should  tell  them  they  was  come  to 
the  wrong  shop  for  information  ;  and  if 
they  wanted  him,  they  had  better  look  for 
him.' 

"  Well,  that  is  just  about  what  /should 
say.  But  they  wont  come  to  me  ;  never  fear  ! 
We  doctors  are  always  hearing  all  sorts  of 
secrets  from  everybody  ;  but  nobody  ever  ex- 
pects us  to  tell  them.  The  world  would 
come  to  a  pretty  pass,  if  the  doctors  were  to 
tell  all  they  know.  No  !  You  may  tell  me 
where  Mr.  Pendleton  is,  safe  enough.  If  he 
never  gets  into  trouble  till  he  gets  into  it 
through  me,  he'll  do  well  !  " 

Thus  exhorted,  Mrs.  Pendleton  yielded. 
Indeed,  the  view  of  the  medical  profession 
presented  to  her  by  no  means  involved  the 
reception  of  any  new  ideas  into  her  mind. 
Men  whose  lives  are  exposed  to  the  risks  and 
chances  which  attend  such  a  career  as  that 
of  Hiram  Pendleton  are  in  the  habit  of  con- 
sidering the  doctor  as  a  confidant  and  friend. 
Old  Bagstock  would  have  been  trusted  by 
Mrs.  Pendleton,  and  frequently  was  trusted 
by  the  anti-legal  world  of  Sillmouth  with  a 
variety  of  secrets,  which  His  Majesty's  rev- 
enue officers  would  have  been  very  glad  to 
get  hold  of.  And  Dr.  Blakistry  had  that 
additional  claim  to  confidence,  one  which 
never  fails  to  exert  a  singularly  powerful  in- 
fluence over  persons  in  Mrs.  Pendleton's 
sphere  of  life, — arising  from  being  a  gentle- 
man,— a  circumstance  of  difference  between 
him  and  Dr.  Bagstock,  which  was  not  at  all 
the  less  clearly  and  palpably  recognizable  by 
Mre.  Pendleton  because  she  would  have  been 


LINDISFARN 

t 


utterly  unable  to  explain  wherein 
eisted. 

So  she  said,  in  reply  to  the  doctor's  per- 
suasive words  and  looks, — 

"  Well  then,  the  truth  is,  doctor,  that 
Pendleton  is  not  twenty  mile  away  from  here 
at  this  moment.  He  is  in  hiding  out  on  the 
moor.  I  don't  justly  know  where  he  is  at 
the  present  speaking  ;  for  he  is  obligated 
often  to  change  his  quarters.  But  if  any 
one  was  at  Chewton, — that's  fifteen  miles 
out  on  the  moor,  or  thereaway, — they  would 
not  be  far  off  from  him.  And  old  Jared 
Mallury,  him  as  is  parish  clerk  at  Chewton, 
is  sure  to  know  exactly  where  he  is." 

"  The  parish  clerk  !  " 

"  Ay,  the  parish  clerk  !  seems  queer,  don't 
it,  going  to  the  parish  clerk  to  inquire  for  a 
— such  a  one  as  Hiram  Pendleton  ?  Next  a 
kin  like  to  going  to  the  parson  for  him  !  But 
Jared  ^lallory  is  like  what  you  was  a-say- 
ing,  sir,  of  the  doctors.  There  is  no  telling 
the  secrets  and  strange  things  as  old  Jared 
Mallory  have  a-knowed  in  his  time,  of  all 
sorts  and  kinds,  and  of  a  many  sorts  of  per- 
sons. And  there  is  no  fear  of  his  splitting. 
But  if  you  whisper  in  his  ear," — and  Mrs. 
Pendleton  whispered  the  words  into  that  of 
the  doctor-:—"  '  Fair  trade  and  free,  says 
Saucy  Sally,'  he  will  bring  you  to  speech 
with  Pendleton." 

''Very  good!  1  wont  forget.  Thank  you, 
Mrs.  Pendleton.  You  shall  never  have  any 
cause  to  regret  having  trusted  me." 

So  the  doctor  rode  back  to  Silverton  in 
meditative  mood,  convincing  himself  more 
and  more  irresistibly  with  every  furlong  he 
rode,  that  either  that  jawbone  he  had  been 
looking  at  was  the  jawbone  of  a  genuine 
Lindisfarn,  or  that  there  was  an  end  of  all 
scientiflc  certainty  in  this  world. 

The  next  day  Dr.  Blakistry  mounted  his 
horse  immediately  after  breakfast,  and  turned 
his  head  in  the  direction  of  the  moor.  He 
had  first  to  ride  down  Silverton  High  Street, 
which  makes  a  steep  descent  just  before 
reaching  the  bridge  over  the  Sill,  and  the  ad- 
jacent low  parts  of  the  city,  and  then  to 
cross  the  river.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
Sill  the  road  immediately  begins  to  ascend 
the  high  ground  towards  Wanstrow  Manor. 
But  shortly  branching  off  at  the  lodge-gates, 
and  leaving  the  park  to  the  right  hand,  to 
take  a  direction  nearer  the  coast,  it  gradually 
leaves  tlie  cultivated  lands  behind  it,  passes  |  produced  itself  by  favor  of  the  same  protec- 


CHASE.  169 

through  a  border  district,  in  which  little  low 
dykes  have  replaced  hedgerows,  and  feeble 
attempts  at  cultivation  struggle  at  disadvan- 
tage with  the  thankless  nature  of  the  peaty 
soil,  and  then  enters  on  the  bleak  solitude  of 
the  trackless  moor, — trackless  as  far  as  eye 
can  reach,  save  for  the  one  good  road  which 
crosses  the  whole  extent  of  it.  At  long  and 
distant  intervals,  however,  an  almost  impas- 
sable track  is  met  with,  leading  off  from  the 
high-road  to  some  of  the  few  villages  buried 
in  the  depths  of  the  wilderness.  IIow  these 
lost  settlements  kept  up  any  communication 
at  all  with  the  rest  of  the  world  before  the 
high  road,  itself  a  creation  of  quite  modern 
times,  existed,  it  is  hard  to  say.  To  the 
present  day  the  moorlanders  arc  a  wild  and 
peculiar  people.  At  the  date  of  the  events 
narrated  in  this  history,  they  must  have  been 
yet  more  so  ;  and  before  the  construction  of 
the  road  that  now  cuts  the  moor  in  half, 
they  must  have  been  isolated  and  wild  in- 
deed. 

Dr.  Blakistry  had  ridden  fast— for  there 
was  a  cold,  raw  mist  lying  on  the  moor — 
about  eight  miles  along  this  modern  high- 
road, before  he  came  to  the  opening  of  a  very 
unpromising-looking  track  turning  off  from 
it  to  the  left, — in  the  direction  of  the  sea- 
coast,  that  is  to  say, — at  the  corner  of  which 
was  a  wan  and  gibbet-like  finger-post,  on 
which  the  words  "  Chewton  7  miles  "  were 
still  with  some  difficulty  decipherable. 

The  doctor  turned  accordingly.  But  the 
same  rapid  rate  of  pi-ogress  which  he  had 
hitherto  made  was  thenceforward  impractica- 
ble. The  track  began  by  making  a  very 
steep  dip  into  a  boggy  hollow,  then  climbed 
out  of  it  by  a  still  steeper  stair  of  crags. 
Here  and  there,  for  a  short  distance,  it  was 
possible  to  trot  over  a  bit  of  springy,  turf- 
covered  peat ;  but  for  the  most  part  the 
track  alternated  between  bog  and  craggy 
rocks.  For  miles  there  was  not  a  living 
creature  to  be  seen,  nor  a  sound,  save  now 
and  then  the  ripple  of  a  tiny  stream,  to  be 
heard.  Then,  on  rounding  one  of  the  huge 
boulder-stones,  which  here  and  there  form 
landmarks  on  the  surface  of  the  mOor,  a 
scanty  flock  of  small  sheep,  the  greater  num- 
ber of  them  black,  were  found  availing  them- 
selves of  the  shelter  from  the  wind-driven 
mist  afforded  by  the  huge  stone,  and  profiting 
by  the  patch  of  greener  herbage  which  had 


170 

tion.  And  soon  after  that  a  church-bell  -was 
heard  ;  and  then,  among  a  few  trees,  a  belfry 
became  visible,  and  the  doctor  knew  that  he 
had  at  length  reached  Chewton. 

They  always  rang  the  church-bell  at  Chew- 
ton  at  mid-day  ;  assigning,  as  the  all-sufficient 
reason  for  doing  so,  that  such  had  always 
been  the  practice.  It  cost  some  trouble  to 
do  it,  of  course.  And  nobody  in  the  place 
had  the  remotest  idea  of  any  good  being  done 
by  it  to  anybody.  But  it  was  not  usually 
done  in  other  parishes  ;  and  it  always  had 
been  done  at  Chewton.  And  Chewton  felt  a 
pride  and  a  gratification  in  these  circum- 
stances. In  all  probability,  the  isolation  of 
the  place  had  helped  to  preserve  the  old 
ringing  of  the  Angelus  in  Catholic  days, 
athwart  all  chances  and  changes,  to  the  pres- 
ent time. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  village,  which 
seemed  to  be  more  of  a  place  than  Sr.  Blak- 
istry  had  expected,  he  got  off  and  led  his 
horse.  The  way  led  toward  the  main  street 
of  the  village,  round  the  low  wall  of  the 
churchyard.  The  bell  continued  to  ring  as 
he  skirted  it ;  and  a  little  child  sitting  on 
the  old-fashioned  stone  stile  over  the  church- 
yard wall,  and  belonging,  in  all  probability, 
to  the  ringer  at  his  work  within  the  church, 
was  the  first  living  being  the  doctor  saw  in 
Chewton.  It  was  a  magnificent  little  fellow 
about  ten  years  old  ;  and  the  doctor  stopped 
to  learn  from  him  if  he  could  tell  the  way  to 
Jared  Mallory's  house.  But  the  words  died 
on  his  lips,  when  the  child,  looking  up  into 
his  face,  upon  being  spoken  to,  exhibited  to 
his  gaze  a  perfectly  well-defined  specimen  of 
the  Lindisfarn  jawbone ! 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

TOE   JAWDONE   TELLS   TALES. 

"  Why,  good  heavens  !  "  ejaculated  Dr. 
Blakistry  to  himself,  as  he  stood  with  his 
liorse's  bridle  over  his  arm,  looking  down 
into  tlic  wondering,  upturned  fiicc  of  the 
handsome  child,  as  it  sat  motionless  on  the 
stone  slab  of  the  churchyard  stile, — "  why, 
good  heavens,  there  it  is  again  !" 

It  meant  the  Lindisfarn  jawbone  ;  for  in 
truth  that  special  form  of  feature  was  very 
markedly  traceable,  by  a  practised  physiogno- 
mist, in  the  child's  face.  And  a  disagree- 
able thought  shot  across  the  doctor's  mind 
like  a  cold  ice-wind,  that  it  might  be  possible 
that  the  formation  in  question  was  merely 
one  feature  of  a  pi'ovincial  type,  and  not  the 
special  inheritance  of  a  particular  family. 
This,  however,  was  a  point  to  be  cleared  up, 
if  possible,  at  once.  So  the  doctor  made  a 
dash  at  the  heart  of  the  matter  by  asking,— 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  your  father  is 
my  little  fellow?  " 

"  GraTZf/father  is  in  the  church  a-ringing 
the  mid-day  bell!  "  replied  the  child,  looking 
up  into  the  doctor's  face  with  a  fearless  but 
much-wondering  gaze,  and  speaking  in  the 
broadest  and  purest  Silishire  Doric;  "I'm 
a  waiting  for  him." 

"And  what  is  your  name,  my  boy?" 
returned  Dr.  Blakistry,  smiling  kindly. 

"  My  name's  July  Mallory,  and  my  grand- 
father is  parish  clerk  of  Chewton,"  said  the 
child,  with  an  assumption  of  much  dignity 
in  making  the  latter  announcement. 

"Ay,  indeed!  And  is  your  father  at 
home,  July?  "  said  the  doctor. 

"  Mother  is  at  home,"  replied  the  boy  ; 
jerking  his  beautiful  gold-ringleted  head 
towards  the  church-door  as  he  added, 
"  Grandfather  is  coming  home  to  dinner  as 
soon  as  he  has  rung  the  mid-day  bell." 

"  And  where  does  your  mother  live,  my 
fine  little  fellow  !  I  want  to  see  her,"  said  the 
doctor,  stooping  to  pat  the  abundant  golden 
tresses  that  clustered  around  July  Mallory's 
cheeks  and  neck,  and  to  get  a  nearer  and 
more  searching  look  at  the  shape  of  the 
lower  part  of  the  child's  face  as  he  did  so. 

Yes  ;  there  was  no  mistake  about  it !  if 
there  were  any  truth  in  the  doctor's  pet 
theory, — if  he  were  to  be  delivered  from  the 
horrible  necessity  of  violently  pulling  out  one 
favorite  opinion  from  the  fagot  of  opinions 
which  most  men  bind  up  for  themselves  by 


171 


the  time  they  have  lived  half  a  century  in 
the  world, — of  violently  pulling  out  this  big 
stick  of  the  fagot,  and  thus  loosening,  who 
could  say  how  irremediably,  the  whole  bun- 
dle,— if  this  evil  were  to  be  avoided,  it  must 
be  shown  that  little  July  Mallory  was  a 
Lindisfarn. 

The  reader,  if  he  have  not  forgotten  those 
particulars  of  Julian  Lindisfarn's  early  life 
which  were  briefly  related  in  the  opening 
pages  of  this  history,  will  of  course  have  at 
once  pei-ceived  that  the  doctor's  theory  was 
in  no  danger,  and  that  little  July  Mallory 
had  every  right  to  the  feature  in  question. 
And  there  was  patent  to  Dr.  Blakistry  a 
concatenation  of  circumstances,  which  in- 
distinctly and  uncertainly  was  leading  him 
towards  a  shrewd  guess  at  the  truth.  There 
was  that  stranger,  with  the  broken  head, 
representing  himself  as  a  French  smuggler, 
but  marked  by  the  Lindisfarn  jaw  in  the 
most  unmistakable  manner.  His  favorite 
Kate  herself,  who  was  every  inch  a  Lindis- 
farn, had  it  not  more  decidedly.  Then  he 
was  summoned  by  Kate  to  visit  this  stranger, 
and  implored  by  her  to  send  up  special  news 
of  the  result  of  his  visit  to  the  Chase.  Then 
this  mysterious  stranger  was  found  at  Sill- 
mouth  in  close  connection  and  association 
with  tRe  Pendletons,  and  Hiram  Pendleton, 
the  smuggler,  was  evidently  in  close  connection 
with  these  Mallorys.  Then  again  the  little 
July  Mallory  had  said  nothing  about  his 
father ;  had  plainly  ignored  any  such  rela- 
tionship, when  Blakistry  had  asked  him 
about  his  father.  That  name  "  July"  too. 
It  was  a  Julian  Lindisfarn,  as  Blakistry 
distinctly  remembered  to  have  heard,  who 
had  "  gone  to  the  bad,"  and  vanished, 
having  died,  as  it  was  said,  in  America. 
And  now  this  July,  short  for  Julian,  Mal- 
lory !  Yes ;  there  certainly  was  a  plank  of 
safety  for  the  theory,  shadowed  out  by  these 
circumstances  ! 

"Mother lives  in  that  house  there,  where 
the  smoke  is  coming  out  of  the  chiml^ley. 
That's  the  rashers  as  mother  is  a-frying  for  ' 
dinner.  When  the  smoke  comes  out  of  the 
chimbley  like  that,  when  grandfather  is  a- 
ringing  the  mid-day  bell  in  the  church, 
there's  always  rashere  for  dinner,"  replied 
the  young  inductive  philosopher. 

"  What,  in  that  large  house  there,  my 
young  Baconian  ?  "  said  the  doctor,  smiling 
to    himself,  as  a  man  may  be  permitted  to 


172 

smile  who  perpetrates  so  wretched  a  pun  for 
his  own  private  use  alone  (for  private  and 
unsocial  vices  cannot  be  visited  by  social 
laws  as  those  are  and  ought  to  be  which 
affect  society), — "  in  that  house  there,  with 
the  stone  roof?"  he  said,  pointing  to  one 
very  near  at  hand,  at  the  bottom  of  the 
village  street,  somewhat  larger  and  more 
solidly  bnilt  than  the  cottages  on  either  side 
of  it,  and  distinguished  from  them  by  being 
roofed  with  the  gray,  rugged  flagstones  of  the 
moor  instead  of  with  thatch. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  child  ;  "  that's  where 
grandfather  and  mother  and  I  lives ;  and  I 
know  there's  going  to  be  rashers  for  dinner 
to-day,"  he  added,  gazing  earnestly  at  the 
smoke,  and  reverting  unceremoniously,  after 
the  fashion  of  children,  to  the  point  of  view 
which  interested  him  in  the  matter. 

"  Grandfather,  mother,  and  I,"  repeated 
the  doctor  to  himself.  "  Not  a  word  about 
father  ?  And  I  know,''''  he  soliloquized,  after 
a  moment's  musing,  "  that  you  are  a  Lindis- 
farn,  by  the  same  rule  that  teaches  you  that 
there  will  be  rashers  for  dinner,  my  little 
man!" 

"  Well,  I  shall  go  and  see  your  mother, 
July,"  added  he,  aloud ;  "  and  I  dare  say  I 
shall  see  you  and  your  grandfether  when  you 
come  home  to  dinner." 

And  so  saying,  the  doctor  giving  a  pull 
with  his  arm  to  the  bridle,  which  was  hang- 
ing over  it,  as  an  intimation  to  his  horse  that 
it  was  time  to  cease  tasting  the  heathery 
gamy-flavored  moorland  herbage  at  the  foot 
of  the  churchyard  wall,  on  which  he  had 
been  engaged  while  his  master  was  holding 
the  above  conversation,  proceeded  to  walk  in 
the  direction  of  the  house  which  had  been 
pointed  out  to  him. 

Two  stone  steps,  with  an  iron  rail  on  each 
side  of  them,  led  to  the  low-browed  door  in 
the  middle  of  the  front  of  the  house  ;  and  a 
little  wooden  paling,  very  much  out  of  repair, 
though  evidently  some  two  hundred  years  or 
80  younger  than  the  iron  rail  and  the  rest  of 
the  house,  fenced  in  from  the  street  a  space 
about  two  feet  wide  in  front  of  the  dwelling 
on  either  side  of  the  entrance.  The  door 
stood  open  ;  and  the  doctor,  hitching  the 
bridle  of  his  horse  over  one  of  the  rails, 
entered  without  ceremony.  The  front-door 
gave  immediate  admission  to  the  main  living 
apartment  of  the  house,  the  "  houseplace," 
as  it  is  emphatically  called  in  the  northern 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


counties.  This  was  the  dining-hall  and  also 
the  kitchen  of  the  inhabitants  ;  and  there, 
within  the  shelter  of  the  huge,  old-fashioned 
fireplace,  was  a  woman  still  young,  at  least 
for  those  who  will  admit  a  life  of  some  eight- 
and-twenty  years  to  be  so  designated,  and, 
still,  far  more  incontestably,  very  handsome, 
engaged,  as  the  youthful  inductionist  had 
predicted,  in  frying  rashers  of  bacon. 

"  This  is  the  house  of  Mr.  Jared  Mallory  ; 
is  it  not,  madam?"  asked  the  doctor,  as 
courteously  saluting  the  occupant  of  the 
chamber,  as  if  she  had  been  reclining  on  a 
sofa,  and  making  eyelet-holes  in  muslin. 
There  was  in  the  remarkable  beauty  of  the 
woman,  and  also,  as  the  doctor  fancied,  in  an 
undefinable  something  about  her  manner  and 
bearing,  a  certain  amount  of  additional  evi- 
dence in  favor  of  the  chance  that  the  Lindis- 
farn  jawbone  would  be  found  to  be  in  its 
right  place,  and  the  pet  theory  be  saved  after 
all! 

♦'  Yes,  sir,  this  is  Jared  Mallory's  house. 
Have  you  business  with  him,  sir  ?  "  replied 
the  woman,  making  a  courtesy  in  return  for 
the  doctor's  salutation,  civilly,  but,  withal,  in 
a  grave  and  distant,  if  not  with  a  repelling 
manner. 

"Yes;  I  have  ridden  over  to  Chewton 
from  Sillmouth  on  purpose  to  speak  with 
him.  I  am  a  physician,  and  a  friend  of  Mrs. 
Pendleton's,  who  lives  at  Deepcreek  Cottage. 
My  name  is  Dr.  Blakistry." 

Bab  Mallory,  "  the  moorland  wild-flower," 
— for,  as  the  reader  is  well  aware,  it  was  to 
her  and  to  no  other  that  the  doctor  was 
speaking, — had  not  thought  it  necessary  to 
lay  aside  the  occupation  in  which  she  had 
been  engaged  when  her  visitor  entered.  She 
remained  under  the  deep  shadow  of  the  great 
projecting  fireplace,  but  with  the  red  light  of 
the  fire,  at  which  she  was  cooking,  on  her 
face  and  figure.  She  retained  in  her  hand  the 
long  handle  of  the  frying-pan,  constructed  of 
a  length  which  would  admit  of  its  being  used 
at  a  fire  made  on  a  hearth  raised  only  a  few 
inches  from  the  floor,  without  compelling  the 
person  using  it  to  stoop  inconveniently,  but 
turned  herself  partially  so  as  to  look  to- 
wards the  stranger.  The  hand  unoccupied 
by  the  frying-pan  was  on  her  hip  ;  and  the  .. 
quick  movement  by  which  this  unemployed 
left  hand  started  to  a  position  a  few  inches 
higher  up  on  the  side,  and  was  pressed  con- 
vulsively against  it,  was,  therefore,  not  ne- 


ceesarily  a  very  noticeable  one.  And  the 
euddeu  deadly  pallor  which,  at  the  same  mo- 
ment overspread  the  beautiful,  but  almost 
olive-colored  face,  seen  as  it  was  in  the  ar- 
tificial lurid  light  of  the  fire,  might  easily 
have  escaped  the  observation  of  a  less  keen 
and  practised  observer  than  Dr.  Blakistry. 
Neither  of  these  indications  escaped  him, 
however ;  and  connecting  them  by  a  rapid 
and  habitual  process  of  inductive  reasoning 
with  tlie  words  of  his  which  had  evidently 
produced  them,  the  doctor  thought  he  saw  in 
them  another  gleam  of  light  on  the  mystery 
he  had  ridden  across  the  moor  to  elucidate, 
and  another  probability  of  salvation  for  his 
theory  of  the  hereditary  nature  of  the  shape 
of  the  jawbone. 

Tiic  daughter  of  Jared  Mallory,  who  knew 
all  about  the  affairs  of  the  Sauci/  Salhj  and 
her  owners,  and  wlio  was  the  mother  of  that 
beautiful  child  yonder  with  the  unmistaka- 
ble Lindisfarn  jaw,  was  violently  agitated 
at  hearing  that  a  physician  had  come  out 
from  Deepcreek  Cottage  to  see  her  father. 
Humph  ! 

He  paused  for  some  word  of  reply,  which 
might  serve  to  throw  further  light  on  the 
subject  of  his  speculations,  and  confirm  the 
suspicions  which  were  uuw  verging  towards 
conviction. 

But  Bab  Mallory  had  not  had  the  weight 
of  an  ever-present  secret  on  her  heart  for  ten 
long  years  for  nothing ;  and  was  not  so 
easily  to  be  thrown  off  her  guard. 

"  Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity,"  we 
are  told  on  high  authority,  not  altogether 
unbacked  by  some  gleanings  from  still  older 
wisdom.  Yet,  upon  the  whole,  it  may  be 
doubted,  perhaps,  whether  that  opinion  be 
not  one  of  those  formed  by  the  world  in  its 
younger  day,  which  the  advantage  of  its 
longer  experience  and  riper  wisdom  may 
lead  it  to  modify.  Surely,  the  uses  of  pros- 
perity are  quite  as  frequently  sweet  with 
fruit  of  the  highest  and  most  durable  savor. 
Surely,  the  "  uses  "  of  adversity  are  quite  as 
frequently,  nay  more  frequently,  bitter  and 
evil  than  sweet.  I  am  inclined  to  think  the 
greater  number  of  those  human  plants,  which 
do  not  thrive  to  any  good  purpose  in  the  soil 
of  prosperity  and  happiness,  would  grow  yet 
more  stunted  and  deformed  in  the  unkindly 
soil  of  adversity  and  unhappiness.  It  is  old- 
fashioned  physiology,  which  supposes  that 
cold   bleak  mountain-tops  are  the  positions 


LINDISFARN    CHASE.  178 

most  favorable  to  human  health.  And  I  am 
disposed  to  think  that  the  psychological  doc- 
trines analogous  to  it  are  not  entitled  to 
much  greater  weight. 

Though  Bab  Mallory's  life  up  to  her  eigh- 
teenth year  had  been — not  altogether  an  un- 
cultivated one ;  for  that  strange  old  Jared 
Mallory,  her  father,  amid  his  varied  avowed 
and  unavowed  occupations  was  not  altogetlicr 
an  uncultured  man,  yet — a  suSiciently  wild 
and  rough  one,  she  had  never  known  any- 
thing faii-ly  to  be  called  adversity  till  then. 
Up  to  that  time  she  had  been  the  wild-flower 
of  the  moorland,  as  healthy  morally  as  well 
as  physically,  as  lovely,  as  sweet  with  as 
wholesome  fragrance  as  the  heather  around 
her.  Then  adversity  had  come,  and  its  uses 
had  not  been  sweet  to  her.  The  open,  fear- 
less eye  of  innocence  had  been  changed  into 
the  hard,  bold  eye  of  defiant  resistance. 
Easy-hearted  trustfulness  had  become  ever- 
present  mistrust.  The  high-spirited  self-reli- 
ance, which  is  the  substratum  of  so  many  a 
gi-eat  quality  and  virtue,  had  been  corrupted 
into  the  cankered  pride,  which  seeks  refuge 
from  wounds,  and  at  the  same  time  finds  an 
unwholesome  nourishment,  in  isolation. 

No  ;  poor  Bab  Mallory  had  not  been  made 
better  by  adversity. 

Open-heartedness  had,  of  course,  gone,  to- 
gether with  so  much  else;  and  when,  after 
the  lapse  of  a  moment,  she  had  recovered 
from  the  heart-spasm  which  Dr.  Blakistry 'a 
words  had  caused  her,  she  only  replied  to 
them,  by  saying  quietly,  as  she  turned  a 
little  more  towards  the  fire  and  the  occupa- 
tion which  made  an  evident  excuse  for  her 
doing  so, — 

"  My  father  will  be  home  very  shortly,  sir. 
Will  you  please  to  take  a  seat  ?  Have  you 
been  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Pendleton  for 
long,  sir?  "  she  added,  after  a  short  pause, 
as  the  doctor  complied  with  her  invitation. 

"No,  not  very  long.  I  had  no  acquaint- 
ance with  her,  indeed,  till  I  was  called  to  her 
cottage  to  visit  a  wounded  man  lying  ill 
there,  by  a  young  lady  who  is  a  friend  of 
mine.  But  we  soon  made  friends,  Mrs.  Pen- 
dleton and  I.  It  is  a  doctor's  business,  you 
know,  to  make  friends,  and  be  a  friend, 
wherever  he  goes." 

Dr.  Blakistry  had  watched  the  patient  on 
whom  he  was  operating  narrowlj^,  as  he 
spoke ;  and  he  had  not  failed  to  mark  the 
little  involuntary  start,  though  it  was  a  very 


174 

sli^^ht  one,  which  had  been  elicited  from  poor 
Bab  by  his  purposely  inti-oduced  mention  of 
the  "  young  lady  "  who  had  summoned  him 
to  the  wounded  smuggler's  bedside. 

"  Yes,  a  young  lady  it  was,  and  a  very 
charming  young  lady,  too,  I  can  assure  you, 
who  called  me  to  visit  a  patient  at  Decpcreek 
Cottage  !  "  added  the  doctor,  answering  that 
little  start,  and  choosing  to  let  her  know  that 
he  had  observed  it. 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  a  young  lady,  and  a 
little  out  of  place,  too,  was  it  not,  sir,  for 
a  young  lady  to  be  interesting  herself  about 
a  poor  wounded  smuggler?"  said  Bab,  at- 
tempting to  turn  the  tables,  and  do  a  little  bit 
of  pumping  in  her  turn. 

"  You  know,  then,  that  the  sick  man  is  a 
wounded  smuggler?"  returned  the  doctor, 
showing  poor  Bab  at  once  how  little  she  had 
taken  by  her  motion. 

"  It  is  little  likely  that  he  should  be  any- 
thing else  !  "  returned  Bab,  darting  an  angry 
flash  of  her  dark  eyes  at  the  doctor  as  she 
spoke.  But  the  flash  was  only  momentary,  and 
quickly  died  out  into  the  quiet,  observant 
look  of  habitual  caution.  * 

The  rashers  were  cooked  by  this  time,  and 
the  amount  of  attention  needed  for  transfer- 
ring them  from  the  frying-pan  to  a  dish,  and 
placing  the  latter,  carefully  covered,  by  the 
side  of  the  braise  on  the  ample  hearth,  sup- 
plied an  excuse  for  abstaining  from  any  fur- 
ther reply  for  a  few  moments.  When  the 
operation  was  completed  she  resumed  the  con- 
versation, having  quite  got  the  better  of  her 
sudden  gust  of  anger,  and  again  essaying  to 
turn  the  pumping  process  on  her  visitor. 

"  One  need  not  be  very  'cute,"  she  said, 
"  to  guess  that  a  man  lying  wounded  in  Deep- 
creek  Cottage  must  be  a  smuggler  ; — at  least 
for  those  who  know  anything  of  Hiram 
Pendleton.  But  here  comes  father,  sir.  I 
am  sorry  you  should  have  had  to  wait  so  long  ; 
but  now  you  can  despatch  your  business  at 
once." 

Jared  Mallory,  who  entered  with  his  grand- 
sou  as  she  spoke,  was  a  tall  and  upright  old 
man,  considerably  older,  apparently,  than 
Bab  Mallory 's  father  need  have  been.  He 
looked  nearly  if  not  quite  seventy.  But, 
though  his  figure  seemed  to  have  shrunk  from 
that  of  a  man  muscular  and  broad  in  propor- 
tion to  his  more  than  ordinary  height  to  a  sin- 
gular degree  of  gaunt  attenuation,  he  bore 
about  him  no  other  obvious  mark  of  decrepi- 


LINDISIAKN    CHASE. 


tudeof  age.  Ilis  attitude  was  upright,  even 
stiiBy  so.  His  head  was  abundantly  covered 
with  long  iron-gray  locks,  which  were  only  just 
beginning  to  turn  more  decidedly  to  silver. 
His  features  were  good , — must  have  been  hand- 
some,— and  there  was  an  air  of  superiority  to 
the  social  position  he  occupied,  and  even  of 
dignity,  about  him,  which,  though  remarka- 
ble, did  not  seem  to  challenge  so  much  no- 
tice, or  to  be  so  much  out  of  place,  as  it 
might  have  done  thirty  years  previously.  It 
was  in  due  keeping  with  one's  conception  of 
the  village  patriarch,  if  not  with  that  of  the 
parish  clerk,  or  still  less  with  that  of  the  con- 
fidant and  accomplice  of  smugglers. 

After  the  first  little  start  of  surprise,  Mr. 
Mallory  bowed  courteously  to  the  stranger  in 
his  house,  at  the  same  time,  however,  turn- 
ing on  his  daughter  a  look  of  very  unmistak- 
able inquiry. 

"  This  is  Dr.  Blakistry  from  Sillmouth, 
father,  who  has  ridden  over  the  moor  to  speak 
with  you  about  a  wounded  man,  whom  he 
has  been  attending  in  Hiram  Pendleton's  cot- 
tage at  Decpcreek,"  said  Bab,  in  reply  to  the 
look ;  and  ]3r.  Blakistry  could  observe  the 
same  sudden  manifestation  of  interest  in  the 
old  man's  face  which  the  same  announce- 
ment had  called  forth  in  the  no  less  carefully 
guarded  features  of  hi.;  daughter. 

"  Nay,  Mr.  Mallory,"  replied  Blakistry, 
"  your  daughter's  interest  in  my  patient  at 
Decpcreek  has  led  her  to  jump  to  a  conclu- 
sion which  nothing  I  have  said  has  war- 
ranted." 

Bab  tossed  her  head  at  this,  with  an  air  of 
much  annoyance  and  impatience. 

"  I  said,"  resuL:jd  the  doctor,  "  that  I  had 
been  attending  a  wounded  man — your  daugh- 
ter here  tells  me  that  he  is  a  smuggler ;  I 
dare  say  that  may  be  so — at  Decpcreek  Cot- 
tage, that  I  was  a  friend  of  Mrs.  Pendleton's, 
and  that  I  had  ridden  over  to  speak  with 
you." 

"  I  am  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Pendleton, 
sir,  and  shall  be  happy  to  attend  to  you. 
Bab,  perhaps  you  had  better  go  into  the  par- 
lor for  a  few  minutes,  and  take  the  child  with 
you.,' 

"  Oh,  no  !  pray  do  not  do  that.  You  are 
just  going  to  dinner  :  I  will  not  detain  you 
more  than  a  minute  or  two  ;  and  I  have  no 
further  secret  than  just  this,  which,  as  I  was 
told  to  whisper  it,  I  whisper  accordingly.'" 

And  the  doctor,  advancing  a  couple   of 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


1T5 


strides  to  the  old  man's  side,  whispered  in  his 
ear  the  passwords,  "  Fair  trade  and  free,  says 
Saucy  Sallij  !  ' ' 

Bab,  who  had  seemed  much  more  inclined 
to  be  guided  by  the  visitor's  hint  that  she 
might  stay  than  by  her  father's  intimation 
that  she  had  better  go,  turned  towards  the 
hearth,  and  stooped  to  occupy  herself  with 
her  cookery,  but,  as  the  doctor  did  not  fail 
to  perceive,  remained  eagerly  attentive  to 
what  was  passing. 

"  All  right,  sir,''  said  the  old  man  ;  "  and 
now,  since  you  did  not  come  here  to  speak  of 
the  wounded  man  at  Pendleton's,  what  is 
there  I  can  do  for  you  or  for  Mrs.  Pendle- 
ton ?  ■ ' 

"  Why,  Mr.  Mallory,'  '  said  the  provoking 
doctor,  "  you  are  as  much  in  a  hurry  with 
your  conclusions  as  your  daughter !  I  never 
said  that  I  had  not  come  here  to  speak  of  my 
patient  at  Deepcreek  Cottage !  I  only  ob- 
served that  I  never  told  your  daughter  that 
such  was  the  case." 

"Very  true,  sir!  But  we  uneducated 
folks  are  not  apt  to  speak  with  such  attention 
to  accuracy!"  said  Mr.  Jared  Mallory, 
speaking  with  some  impatience,  and  almost 
with  a  sneer,  but  with  the  manner  and 
accent  of  the  educated  classes  to  which  he 
was  asserting  that  he  did  not  belong.  "  May 
I  ask  you,  then,  to  state  what  is  the  purpose 
of  your  visit  to  Chewton  ?  " 

"  Well,  my  principal  object  in  coming 
here,  and  that  for  which  Mrs.  Pendleton  sent 
me  here,  was  to  see  and  speak  with  her  hus- 
band." 

"  Well,  sir  !  "  returned  the  old  clerk  ; 
"  since  Mrs.  Pendleton,  who  I  suppose  knows 
what  she  is  about,  has  sent  you  here  for  the 
purpose,  I  think  I  can  put  you  in  the  way 
of  meeting  with  Hiram  Pendleton  ;  but  your 
ride  at  the  moor  is  not  yet  quite  at  an  end, 
if  you  wish  to  see  him.  He  is  not  at  Chew- 
ton,  nor  within  six  miles  of  it." 

"  And  I  confess  to  have  ridden  quite  far 
enough  already,  considering  that  I  have  to 
ride  all  the  way  back  again,"  said  Dr. 
Blakistry. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  you  are  not  likely  to 
see  the  man  you  want,  without  adding  an- 
other dozen  miles  or  more  to  your  ride,  sir," 
said  the  old  man,  with  a  somewhat  malicious 
appearance  of  satisfaction. 

''  And  I  am  thinking,"  said  the  doctor, 
"  that   perhaps  I   may   be  able   to  do   my 


errand  without  seeing  Mr.  Pendleton.  But 
if  I  am,  as  I  fear,  keeping  you  from  your 
dinner,  Mr.  Mallory,  I  will  go  and  have  a 
look  at  the  village,  and  return  when  you 
have  done." 

"  Not  at  all,  sir  !  By  no  means  !  If  you 
will  only  say  at  once — or  if,"  he  continued, 
partly  in  compliance  with  a  look  from  his 
daughter,  and  partly  struck  by  a  sense  of  the 
discourtesy  of  his  previous  proceeding, — "  if 
the  moor  air  has  given  you  an  appetite  that 
can  content  itself  with  moorland  fare, — a  bit 
of  bacon  and  a  cut  from  the  loaf, — perhaps 
you  will  honor  us  by  sitting  ck)wn  with  us, 
and  we  can  talk  of  the  matter  you  have  in 
hand,  whatever  it  is,  over  our  dinner." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Mallory  !  I  confess, 
that  I  do  feel  very  particularly  well  inclined 
to  eat  a  bit  of  bacon  and  a  cut  from  the 
loaf ;  and  not  a  very  small  cut  either  !  I  shall  ■ 
be  thankful  for  your  hospitality,  and  we  can 
talk  the  while,  as  you  say." 

An  Englishman  cannot  be  surly  to  a  man 
sitting  down  at  his  table  to  share  his  meal 
with  him.  It  is  no  more  possible  to  him 
than  it  is  to  an  Arab  to  slay  the  traveller 
who  has  sought  hospitality  in  his  tent.  And 
the  party  of  four,  consisting  of  old  Mallory, 
his  daughter,  his  grandson,  and  his  visitor, 
had  hardly  broken  bread  around  the  same 
table,  before  the  tone  of  the  conversation 
between  them  had  become  less  stiff  and 
somewhat  more  friendly. 

"You  said  rightly  enough,  Mr.  Mallory, 
that  the  moor  air,  and  a  ride  through  it,  are 
capital  specifics  for  creating  an  appetite. 
And  that  line  little  fellow  opposite  seems  to 
find  the  first  quite  enough  for  the  purpose 
without  adding  the  second.  He  was  my  first 
acquaintance  in  Chewton.  I  found  him  sitting 
at  the  churchyard  gate  speculating  on  the 
fried  rashers  which  he  concluded  were  being 
prepared  for  him,  from  the  smoke  he  saw 
curling  up  from  your  chimney.  What  a 
fine  little  fellow  he  is  !  " 

"  Ay,  the  child  thrives  !  "  replied  the  old 
grandfather,  somewhat  dryly,  and  with  none 
of  the  satisfaction  in  his  voice  which  the 
remark  would  seem  calculated  to  call  for  ; 
while  the  mother  of  the  boy  thus  praised 
fixed  her  eyes  on  the  plate  before  her,  and 
remained   silent. 

No  one  of  these  little  indications  was  lost 
upon  the  doctor,  who  saw  in  them  still  fur- 
ther confirmation   of  the   truth  of  his  con- 


176 

jectures,  and  of  the  consequent  salvation  of 
his  favorite  theory. 

"  It  is  strange,"  he  continued,  "  that  the 
little  fellow  should  hring  us  back  again  to 
the  individual  we  have  already  so  often 
spoken  of,  my  patient  at  Deepcreek  Cottage. 
But  I  can't  help  being  struck  by  a  singular 
resemblance  of  feature  between  the  two.  I 
observed  it  the  moment  I  saw  the  child. 
We  physicians,  you  know,  are  apt  to  take 
notice  of  such  things,  habituated,  as  we  are, 
to  scrutinize  faces  and  the  expression  of  them 
closely." 

A  quick  and  significant  glance  passed 
between  old  Jared  Mallory  and  his  daughter, 
as  Blakistry  spoke  thus  ;  but  it  did  not  pass 
so  quickly  as  to  prevent  him  from  catching  it 
on  its  passage. 

"  Other  people,  I  suppose,  think  less  of 
isuch  chance  matters,"  replied  the  old  man. 
"  You  were  going  to  mention  the  object  of 
your  visit  to  Chewton.  If  I  seem  in  a  hurry 
to  hear  it,  it  is  because  I  shall  be  obliged  to 
go  out  again  as  soon  as  I  have  eaten  my 
dinner." 

"  My  business  was  to  find  Pendleton, 
having  been  directed  here  by  his  wife  for 
that  purpose.  But  the  truth  is  that  my 
object  in  seeing  Pendleton  was  no  other  than 
to  speak  to  him  about  this  same  patient  of 
mine,  the  man  lying  ill  at  his  cottage.  And 
when  I  said  that  I  began  to  think  that  I 
might  obtain  the  information  I  wished  with- 
out seeing  him,  it  was  because  I  fancied  that 
I  might  learn  here  all  I  needed, — perhaps 
more  satisfactorily  than  from  him." 

The  same  quick,  sharp  glance,  this  time 
with  a  yet  more  marked  expression  of  agita- 
tion in  it,  at  least  on  the  part  of  the 
daughter,  passed  between  her  and  her  father 

"  If  you  mean  merely  because  of  the 
chance  likeness  you  fancied  you  saw  be- 
tween " — 

"I  have  finished  my  dinner,"  interrupted 
Bab,  rising  from  her  chair,  as  she  spoke  ; 
"  and  as  what  you  have  to  say  to  my  father 
cannot  be  any  business  of  mine,  sir,  I  will 
leave  you  to  finish  it  with  him,  if  you  will 
kindly  excuse  me.  Come,  July,  I  am  sure 
you  have  eaten  enough  to  last  you  till  supper- 
time,"  she  added,  affecting  to  look  towards 
the  doctor  with  a  smile,  which  he  had  no 
difficulty  in  seeing  was  not  the  genuine 
expression  of  the  feeling  that  was  in  her 
mind.    "  1  suppose,  father,"  she   added,  as 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 

she  turned  towards  the  door  of  an  inner 
room,  "  that  if  Dr.  Blakistry  brings  news 
that  anything  has  happened  or  is  likely  to 
happen  to  the  wounded  man,  it  will  be  best 
to  let  Pendleton  know  of  it  at  once." 

The  doctor  perceived  at  once  the  anxiety 
that  betrayed  itself  while  striving  to  conceal 
itself  under  the  appearance  of  indifference 
in  these  words  ;  and  while  noting  the  symp- 
tom, and  adding  it  to  his  stock,  hastened  to 
relieve  it. 

"  Oh,  no,  nothing  of  the  sort.  He  will 
do  very  well,  with  a  little  time  and  good 
nursing.  It  was  an  ugly  cut  enough  though. 
And  if  there  had  been  another  half-pound 
of  weight  on  the  cutlass  that  gave  it,  why, 
the  result  might  have  been  different.  As  it 
is,  I  assure  you,  you  have  no  cause  for  anx- 
iety," and  the  doctor  looked  keenly,  but  at 
the  same  time  kindly,  at  her  as  he  uttered 
the  words. 

"  Anxiety  !  "  said  Bab,  with  widely- 
opened  eyes,  and  a  toss  of  her  handsome 
head  ;  yet  still,  as  it  were,  in  despite  of  her- 
self, lingering  to  hear  what  should  come 
next. 

"  Yes,  anxiety.  It  is  very  natural.  And 
pray  do  not  think  me  impertinent,  my  dear 
madam,  if  I  beg  that  you  will  remain  and 
hear  what  I  have  to  say.  I  think  it  may  be 
interesting  to  you.  And  may  I  hope  that 
you  will  consider  me  in  the  light  of  a  friend 
in  listening  to  me  ?  I  come  here  only  as 
such,  as  I  went  to  see  the  sufferer  at  Deep- 
creek  Cottage  only  as  such.  Doctors  neces- 
sarily become  often  acquainted  with  the  se- 
crets of  their  patients.  It  is  their  duty, 
and,  I  think  I  may  say,  their  invariable 
practice,  to  respect  them.  May  I  then  speak 
to  you  as  a  friend  ?  " 

The  appeal  was  evidently  made  to  both 
the  father  and  daughter.  They  looked  at 
each  other  with  glances  of  uneasiness,  and 
mutual  inquiry  ;  but  for  a  minute  or  so 
neither  spoke. 

"  If  we  are  somewhat  slow,  sir,  to  reply 
cordially  to  such  an  appeal,"  said  the  old 
man  at  length,  "  it  is  because  it  is  a  new  and 
strange  one  to  us.  We  have  not  been  much 
accustomed  to  friends  or  friendship.  We 
have  met  with  but  little  of  it  from  those  we 
might  perhaps  have  expected  it  from.  That 
must  be  our  excuse  if  we  are  somewhat  slow 
to  expect  it  from  one  who  is  a  stranger,  and 
on  whom  we  certainly  have  no  sort  of  claim." 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"  One  does  not  always  find  friendly  feeling 
most  in  this  world,  Mr.  Mallory,  as  I  should 
think  j-our  experience  must  have  taught  you, 
from  those  from  whom  it  might  most  natu- 
rally be  expected.  As  for  myself,  it  is  little 
indeed  I  have  to  offer,  or  rather  notliing. 
Circumstances — mainly  the  one  of  my  having 
been  called  to  visit  the  wounded  man  at 
Deepcreek  Cottage — have  brought  certain 
things  to  my  knowledge ;  and  all  I  wish  you 
to  understand  is,  that  my  object  is  to  use  that 
knowledge  in  no  wise  to  the  annoyance  or 
harm  of  you  or  yours,  but,  if  the  possibility 
should  offer,  to  your  advantage.  And  now 
I  will  be  perfectly  frank  with  you.  I  am 
well  convinced  that  the  wounded  man  whom 
I  have  attended  is  no  other  than  that  Julian 
Lindisfarn,  the  long-lost  son  of  Dr.  Theoph- 
ilus  Lindisfarn  of  the  Close  at  Silverton. 
This  was  my  conviction  when  I  set  out  to 
come  here,  to  speak  to  Mr.  Pendleton  about 
him" — 

"  Pendleton  knows  nothing  about  him, — 
that  is  as  to  who  he  is  !" — interrupted  Bab, 
hastily. 

"  In  ascertaining  that  fact,  I  should  not 
have  communicated  the  information  to  him," 
said  the  doctor.  "  I  have  communicated  my 
conviction  to  you,  because  I  am  entirely  per- 
suaded that  you  are  also  aware  of  the 
fact." 

"  What  can  the  man  have  said  to  lead  you 
to  imagine  such  a  thing?"  said  Bab,  still 
keeping  up  her  fence,  though  evidently  feel- 
ing herself  not  far  off  from  the  point  at 
which  she  would  be  obliged  to  abandon  it. 

"  Nothing  ;  I  told  you  I  would  be  quite 
frank  with  you.  My  patient  has  said  noth- 
ing. But  what  are  the  circumstances?  I 
am  called  to  this  wounded  smuggler  by  a 
young  lady, — rather  a  remarkable  fact,  as 
you  yourself  observed.  Now  that  young 
lady  was  Miss  Kate  Lindisfarn." 

"  And  did  she  tell  you  that  the  man  she 
asked  you  to  visit  was  her  cousin?"  again 
interrupted  Bab,  with  a  quickness  and  ear- 
nestness that  once  again  betrayed  to  her 
shrewd  companion  her  own  knowledge  of  all 
the  circumstances. 

"  By  no  means  !  1  am  quite  certain,  and 
you  may  be  quite  certain,  that  Miss  Lindis- 
farn would  not  betray  any  confidence  that 
was  placed  in  her." 

"  Then  what  can  have  led  you  to" — 

"  The  same  process  which  has  convinced 
12 


177 

me —  Perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  to  send  my 
little  friend  there  out  to  his  seat  on  the 
churchyard  stile  again,"  said  the  doctor,  in- 
terrupting himself. 

Poor  Bab  turned  pale,  and  her  breath 
came  short ;  and  old  Jared  looked  suspi- 
ciously and  defiantly  at  his  guest.  But  he 
said  to  his  grandson,  sternly, — 

"Run  along  out,  child!  Go  and  play! 
You  are  not  wanted  here  !  Now,  sir  !  You 
were  about  to  say" — he  added,  as  he  stepped 
across  the  wide  stone  floor  of  the  kitchen, 
and  closed  the  door  of  the  house  behind  the 
child. 

"  I  was  about  to  say,"  resumed  the  doc- 
tor, quietly,  "  that  the  same  process  of  rea- 
soning which  had  convinced  me  that  my  pa- 
tient was,  in  fact,  Julian  Lindisfarn — or 
mainly  the  same — had  convinced  me  that  the 
boy  who  has  just  left  the  room  is  his  son." 

"  I  do  not  understand  very  well,  sir,  what 
you  mean  by  what  you  call  a  process  of  rea- 
soning, but " — 

"  He  is  the  son  of  Julian  Lindisfarn,"  in- 
terrupted Bab,  drawing  herself  up  to  her  full 
height,  and  looking  proudly  and  defiantly  at 
the  doctor  ;  "  and  I  am  his  mother." 

"  I  was  sure  of  it  from  his  jawbone  !  " 
said  Blakistry,  triumphantly  ;  "  that  is,  sure 
of  the  paternity.  The  other  circumstances 
were  deducible  from  circumstantial  evidence. " 

"  His  jawbone  !  "  exclaimed  old  Jared, 
frowning  heavily. 

'•  The  most  unchangeable  feature  in  all  the 
face,  my  dear  sir !  There  are  scientific  rea- 
sons, which — in  one  word,  the  wounded  man 
is,  to  any  eye  capable  of  tracing  a  family 
likeness,  evidently  a  Lindisfarn.  And  the 
very  handsome  child  who  was  here  just  now 
is  equally  so  !  These  things  cannot  be  hid- 
den from  the  eye  of  science  !  " 

"  But  it  may  be  questionable,  sir,  how  far 
the  tongue  of  science  is  justified  in  " — 

"Nay,  father!  If  Dr.  Blakistry  means 
kindly, — and  I  am  sure  he  does, — and  if  he 
has  saved  Julian's  life  " — 

"  I  do  not  say  that  I  saved  his  life  !  May- 
be that  I  did  ;  for  the  cut  was  an  ugly  one, 
and  there  was  much  fever  ;  and  I  cannot  say, 
— quite  between  ourselves,  you  know — quite 
in  confidence,  Mr.  Mallory, — I  cannot  say 
that  I  have  much  confidence  in  the  clinical 
practice  of  Dr.  Bagstock.  Still,  I  do  not  say 
that  I  saved  his  life." 

"  At  all  events,  he  is  saved  ;  and  you  have 


LINDISFARN 

It  is  the  truth 


178 

done  your  best  toward  it. 
that  "— 

"Bab!"  interrupted  her  father,  very 
Bharrply.  "  Stop  a  minute  !  I  want  to  speak 
to  you  !  " 

So  saying,  he  drew  her  aside  to  a  far  corner 
of  the  large  room  ;  and  the  father  and  dau 
ter  spoke  a  few  sentences  together  in  earnest 
whispers.  Then  turning  again  to  Dr.  Blak- 
istry,  she  continued, — 

"  It  is  the  truth,  as  I  was  saying,  that  he 
now  lying  at  Deepcreek  Cottage  is  Julis 
Lindisfarn,  and  that  the  child  is  his  sun. 
But  he  is,  for  reasons  which  I  need  not 
trouble  you  with,  sir,  extremely  anxious  that 
the  fact  of  his  being  there  should  be  known 
to  no  one,  save  to  his  two  cousins,  the  young 
ladies  at  the  Chase.  His  secret  became 
known  to  Miss  Kate  while  she  was  at  his 
bedside,  having  been  brought  there,  not  by 
any  knowledge  or  suspicion  of  the  fact,  but 
only  by  her  kindness  for  Mrs.  Pendleton. 
And  Miss  Kate  bai-gained  for  his  permission 
to  tell  it  to  her  sister.  If  those  young  ladies 
have  kept  their  solemn  promise,  it  is  known 
to  no  one  else.  And  all  that  I  would  ask  of 
your  kindness,  sir,  is  to  reveal  the  truth 
which  you  have  discovered  to  no  one.  !Much 
trouble  and  sorrow  would  be  caused  by  doing 
so,  and  no  good  to  any  one." 

"You  have  been  aware,  then,  of  all  his 
doings?  "  remarked  the  doctor. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  When  Pendleton  or  any  one  of 
them  are  out  here  in  the  moor,  there  is  no 
want  of  news.  I  knew  all  about  it  except 
the  name  of  the  kind  doctor  who  had  come 
at  Miss  Kate's  invitation  to  visit  him." 

"  Well,  you  may  depend  on  my  faithful 
keeping  of  the  secret  which  the  laws  of 
science  have  betrayed  to  me.  Shall  I  men- 
tion to  my  patient  that  I  have  seen  you 
here?  " 

"  Perhaps  best  not!  "  said  Bab,  with  a 
half-smothered  sigh. 

"  Certainly  not,"  added  the  old  man,  far 
more  decidedly.  "We  beg  of  you  to  say  no 
word  upon  the  subject  of  him  or  of  us,  to  any 
one,  neither  to  himself,  nor  to  the  young  la- 
dies at  the  Chase, — who,  of  course,  know 
nothing  of  the  facta  which  have  been  spoken 
of  here,  except  that  of  their  cousin's  exist- 
ence,— nor  to  Mrs.  Pendleton,  nor  to  any 
other  person  whatever.  It  is  the  only  kind- 
ness you  can  do  us, — the  only  kindness,  at 
least,"  he  added,  in  a  more  kindly  tone  and 


CHASE. 


manner,  "  besides  that  you  have  already 
done  in  caring  for  the  safety  of  the  father  of 
my  daughter's  child." 

"  Be  assured,  my  dear  sir,  that  I  will  not 
fail  to  obey  you,"  said  the  doctor,  pressing 
the  old  man's  hand,  and  then  taking  that 
which  Bab  Mallory  frankly  extended  to  him. 

So  the  doctor  rode  back  to  Silverton  in  a 
happier  frame  of  mind  than  that  in  which 
he  had  journeyed  forth.  Science  had  vindi- 
cated herself ;  and  the  great  theory  was  jus- 
tified and  confirmed  in  tlie  most  notable  man- 
ner. 

And  then  the  doctor's  mind  was  at  leisure 
to  revert  to  the  less  exalted  and  merely  so- 
cial considerations  involved  in  the  circum- 
stances of  which  he  had  become  the  depos- 
tary.  He  thought  he  i-emembered  to  have 
heard  that  the  Lindisfarn  property  had  been 
entailed  on  the  male  heir,  who  was  supposed 
to  have  died  in  America.  What  a  change 
would  be  made  in  a  great  many  things  by 
his  reappearance !  And  the  two  persons 
most  concerned  knew  the  facts  !  And  no- 
body else  knew  them,  except  the  queer,  iso- 
lated people  he  had  just  left.  A  strange 
position  of  circumstances  enough !  And 
would  the  two  girls  keep  the  secret?  Of 
his  pet,  Kate,  he  had  no  doubt.  Of  Miss  Mar- 
garet he  did  not  feel  so  sure.  Well,  we  shall 
see  !  At  all  events,  there  was,  thank  Heaven, 
nothing  for  him  to  do,  save  simply  to  do 
nothing  but  look  on. 

So  the  doctor  got  home  to  his  quiet,  com- 
fortable little  bachelor's  dinner,  in  his  quiet, 
comfortable  little  bachelor's  house  in  Silver- 
ton,  well  contented  with  his  day's  work  : 
some  of  the  circumstances  connected  with 
which  were  subjected  to  his  speculations  un- 
der a  new  light,  and  from  a  fresh  point  of 
view,  when  his  housekeeper  told  him,  as  she 
waited  on  him  at  dinner,  the  news  of  the  day 
in  Silverton, — that  ^Ir.  Frederick  Falconer 
was  engaged  to  be  married  to  Miss  Margaret 
Lindisfarn. 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 
SETTLEMENTS. 

Dr.  Blakistrt  religiously  kept  the  prom- 
ise he  had  given,  despite  the  very  strong 
temptation  to  break  it,  to  which  he  was  ex- 
posed by  his  longing  desire  to  publish  to  the 
world  the  remarkable  confirmation  afibrded 
to  his  theory  by  the  circumstances  of  the 
story  which  he  had  become  acquainted  with. 


LINDISFARN 

lie  flattered  liiraself  at  the  time,  when  the 
gratification  arising  from  the  discovery  was 
fri'tih  in  his  mind,  that  the  consciousness  of 
this  triumpli  of  [scientific  truth  nnder  his 
auspices  would  ahundantly  suffice  him.  But 
the  longing  sliortly  came  upon  him  to  enjoy 
his  triumph  in  the  eyes  of  others.  He  re- 
sisted gallantly,  however  ;  and  the  possession 
of  Julian's  secret  continued  to  be  confined  to 
Kate  and  her  sister,  the  doctor,  who  was  ut- 
terly unsuspected  of  sharing  it  by  the  two 
girls,  and  the  little  family  out  on  the   moor. 

lie  was  not,  however,  forbidden  to  think 
on  the  sti'ange  circumstances  of  the  case  ; 
and  considering  them  in  connection  with  the 
tidings,  now  the  property  of  all  Silverton,  of 
the  engagement  between  the  rich  banker's 
son  and  Miss  Margaret  Lindisfarn,  his  mind 
dwelt  frequently  on  the  great  prudence  and 
wisdom  his  friend  and  favorite  Kate  had 
shown  in  stipulating  with  her  cousin  that 
she  should  be  allowed  to  communicate  the 
secret  at  least  to  her  sister.  Had  she  not 
done  so, — had  Miss  Margaret  been  left  under 
t'lie  false  impression,  shared  by  all  the  rest  of 
the  Silverton  world,  that  she  and  her  sister 
were  co-heiresses  of  the  Lindisfarn  property, 
— she  might  have  been  led  into  forming  an 
engagement,  all  the  parties  to  which  would 
have  been  under  impressions  most  painfully 
different  from  the  reality.  As  it  was,  con- 
cluded the  doctor,  it  was  evident  that  Falconer 
had  been  made  to  understand  in  some  way 
that,  for  some  reason  or  other,  his  intended 
bride  had  no  such  expectations.  And  he 
freely  gave  that  cynosure  of  Silvertonian  eyes 
credit  for  a  greater  degree  of  unworldliness 
and  disinterestedness  than  he  had  ever  before 
been  inclined  to  attribute  to  him,  and  felt 
that  he  liked  him  better  than  he  used  to 
do. 

The  necessary  meeting  between  the  squire 
and  old  Jlr.  Falconer  had  passed  off  well  and 
easily.  The  old  banker  had  driven  up  to  the 
Chase,  and  been  closeted  with  the  squire  in 
his  study  for  a  short  half-hour  ;  and  the  two 
gentlemen  had  then  come  forth  into  the  par- 
lor, where  lunch  was  on  the  table,  with  faces 
which  very  plainly  declared  that  no  difficul- 
ties had  arisen  between  them. 

"  People  think,"  the  hearty  old  squire  had 
said  to  the  cautious  man  of  business  who  was 
eagerly  marking  every  word  that  fell  from 
him, — "  people  think  that  my  girls  are  co- 
heiresses of  this  property.     But  as  far  as  I 


CHASE.  179 

the  lawyers'   lingo,  that  is 


can  understand 
not  the  case." 

"  I  have  always  been  perfectly  well  aware 
of  that,  Mr.  Lindisfarn.  People  talk  care- 
lessly, without,  perhaps,  knowing  tlic  exact 
meaning  of  the  terms  they  use,"  said  the 
banker. 

"  The  state  of  the  case,  as  I  understand  it, 
is  this,"  continued  the  squire;  "  my  hands 
are  not  tied  in  any  way.  It  lies  with  me  to 
bequeath  the  property  as  I  ma}'  think  fit." 

"  Xay,  not  quite  so,  Mr.  Lindisfarn,  if 
you  will  pardon  me  for  correcting  you  on 
such  a  point,"  said  the  banker,  making  his 
pig-tail  vibrate  with  the  intensity  of  his  self- 
complacent,  courtly  courtesy,  as  it  used  to  do 
when  he  was  engaged  in  the  discussion  of 
some  point  of  antiquarian  lore  with  Dr. 
Theophilus  Lindisfarn  ;  and  with  a  kind  of 
catlike  purr  in  his  voice  which,  somehow  or 
other,  seemed  to  be  used  as  a  sort  of  wad- 
ding between  his  words  to  prevent  them  from 
coming  into  hard  contact  with  each  other, — 
"  not  exactly  that,  Mr.  Lindisfarn.  Your 
hands  are  not  tied  as  regards  the  division  of 
the  property  between  your  children.  But  I 
apprehend  that  you  have  not  the  power  of 
willing  any  portion  of  it  away  from  them." 

"  Pshaw  !  who  the  devil  ever  apprehended 
anything  else  ?  The  property  belongs  to  the 
girls  ;  of  course  it  does  ;  and  of  course  it 
would,  whether  I  had  the  power  to  leave  it 
to  the  lord  mayor  or  not.  But  it  is  in  my 
power  to  divide  it  between  them  as  I  may 
think  proper.  Now,  you  see,  Mr.  Falconer, 
if  I  settle  one-half  of  the  property  on  ]Mar- 
garet,  I  put  this  power  out  of  my  hands." 

"  Undoubtedly,  Mr.  Lindisfarn, — unques- 
tionably you  do.  But,  if  you  will  forgive 
me  for  making  the  suggestion,  one  does  not 
quite  see  how  the  young  ladies  can  be  well 
and — and — desirably,  I  will  say,  settled  in 
the  world,  without  such  a  sacrifice  of  power 
on  your  part." 

"  Why,  a  good  settlement  on  cither  of  the 
girls,  or  on  both  of  them,  might  be  made, 
you  know,  Mr.  Falconer,  so  as  still  to  leave 
a  considerable  portion  of  the  property — say 
a  third  of  it — unsettled,  and  still  in  my  own 
power,  as  far  as  bequeathing  it  to  either 
child  goes,"  said  Mr.  Lindisfarn,  speaking 
as  if  he  were  putting  the  idea  before  his  own 
mind  for  consideration  rather  than  offering 
it  as  a  suggestion  to  his  companion, 

"  Such  a  course  might  certainly  be  adopted, 


180 

Mr.  Lindisfarn  ;  and  it  is  not  for  me  to  make 
any  remarks  upon  the  wisdom  or  expediency 
of  it,"  said  the  old  banker,  with  a  certain 
dry  stififness  in  his  manner,  which  had  not 
before  been  apparent  in  it ;  and  the  purr,  in 
which  his  words  were  packed,  seemed  to  have 
more  of  the  harsh  quality  of.  sawdust,  and 
less  of  the  softness  of  wadding  in  it ;  for  this 
suggestion  on  the  squire's  part  was  exactly 
what  the  banker  had  feared,  and  had  consid- 
ered as  likely  to  operate  to  the  advantage  of 
Kate,  and  the  disadvantage  of  ^largaret. 
"  Such  a  course,"  he  continued,  "  would  have 
the  effect  of  retaining  a  power  of  disposition 
in  your  own  hands.  But  you  must  forgive 
me,  my  dear  sir,  if  I  intimate  that  an  inten- 
tion on  your  part  to  approach  the  subject  from 
such  a  point  of  view,  would  very  essentially 
modify — necessarily  so,  as  you  will  of  course 
at  once  perceive — the  views  and  intentions 
which  I  may  be  disposed  to  submit  to  you  on 
my  side." 

And  the  old  gentleman  threw  himself  back 
in  his  chair,  and  began  nursing  the  black-silk 
clothed  calf  of  his  right  leg,  looking  keenly 
into  the  squire's  broad  and  open  face,  to  see 
the  result  of  his  shot. 

"  And  what  do  I  want  with  any  such 
power,  after  all?"  continued  the  squire, 
musingly,  and  replying  very  evidently  more 
to  the  train  of  thought  that  had  been  going 
on  in  his  own  mind  than  to  the  banker's  words. 
"  Perhaps  it  is  best  toput  itout  of  my  hands. 
They  are  good  girls  and  good  daughters, 
both  of  them.  I  can't  say,  when  I  look  into 
my  own  heart.  Falconer,"  continued  the  old 
man,  stretching  his  arm  across  the  corner 
of  the  table  at  which  they  were  sitting, 
and  laying  his  broad  hand  on  the  superfine 
blaek  cloth  coat-sleeve  of  his  companion, — "  I 
can't  say  honestly  that  they  are  both  quite 
the  same  to  me  there.  It  would  not  be  natu- 
ral or  possible  that  it  should  be  so.  Kate — 
but  there,  we  all  know  what  Kate  is.  But 
if  my  poor  Margaret  has  been  turned  from 
an  English  girl  into  a  French  one,  it  was  by 
no  fault  of  her  own.  And  if  it  is  impossible 
for  me  to  feel  that  she  is  as  near  to  my  heart 
as  her  sister,  it  would  be  unpardonable  to 
make  that  a  cause  of  still  further  disadvan- 
tage to  her.  And  maybe  it  is  all  for  the  best 
to  put  the  matter  out  of  my  own  hands.  No 
man  can  tell  how  great  a  fool  he  may  grow 
as  he  gets  older,  eh.  Falconer  ?  Yes,  the  most 
ri^ht  and  rishteous  course  will  be  to  settle 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


the  property  fairly  between  them.  Yes,  let 
it  be  settled  on  'em  both  at  once,  one-half 
share  for  each." 

Mr.  Falconer  executed  a  long  series  of  lit- 
tle bows,  as  the  squire  thus  delivered  him- 
self, which  imparted  to  his  pig-tail  and  his 
chin  an  alternating  up-and-down,  see-saw 
movement,  expressive  of  the  most  decided  ap- 
probation. 

"  I  felt  quite  sure,  my  dear  Mr.  Lindisfarn, 
that  your  heart  and  head  would  both  coincide 
in  leading  you  to  that  determination,  as  soon 
as  the  matter  was  placed  fairly  before  you. 
I  have  no  such  reflections  to  make.  I  have 
but  one  child.  All  that  I  have  will  be  his ; 
nay,  is  his  in  point  of  fact.  No  father  ever  had 
a  better  son .  He  has  never  given  me  an  hour's 
anxiety  since  he  was  old  enough  to  know  right 
from  wrong  !  I  have  no  long-descended  acres 
to  give  him,  Mr.  Lindisfarn  ;  you  know  that. 
You  know  who  we  are  and  what  we  are. 
Traders,  Mr.  Lindisfarn,  mere  traders — some- 
what warm  !  I  can  leave  my  eon  a  good 
name,  Mr.  Lindisfarn, — and  something  else 
besides;  "  and  the  banker  performed  a  very 
elaborate  and  significant  wink  as  he  spoke 
the  last  words, — "something  else  besides. 
As  regards  settlements,  you  must  of  course 
be  aware,  my  dear  sir,  that  it  is  not  quite  so 
simple  a  matter  for  a  man  in  business  to  tie 
up  capital  as  it  is  for  a  land-owner  to  tie  up 
his  acres.  It  will,  of  course,  be  proper  that 
the  young  lady's  fortune  should  be  strictly 
settled  on  herself;  and,  therefore,  there  will 
be  the  less  difiBculty  in  meeting  the  necessary 
requirements  on  our  side.  But  all  this  will  be 
matter  for  consideration  and  arrangement 
with  your  solicitors.  All  I  wish  is  to  act  as 
liberally  by  my  boy  as  it  is  possible  for  me 
to  do  ;  and  my  full  purpose  and  intention  is 
that  he  shall  possess  every  farthing  I  have  in 
the  world.  Can  a  father  say  more,  Mr.  Lin- 
disfarn ?  Can  a  father,  who  is  a  banker,  speak 
fairer  than  that?" 

The  squire,  thus  appealed  to,  professed  his 
inability  to  conceive  any  fairer  speaking  in  a 
father  and  a  banker  ;  and  then  the  two  old 
gentlemen  had  come  out  from  their  conference 
in  the  study,  into  the  room  where  the  ladies 
were  at  luncheon  with  Mr.  Frederick.  The 
ladies,  that  is  to  say  Miss  Immy  and  Miss 
Margaret ;  for  Kate,  who  had  taken  of  late 
to  pass  much  of  her  time  up-stairs,  had  again 
to-day  excused  herself  from  coming  down  to 
luncheon. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


«'  What!  Kate  not  here?"  cried  tlic  squire, 
as  he  entered  ;  and  a  passing  cloud  traversed 
his  face.  But  his  genial,  kindly  good-humor 
shone  out  again  in  the  next  instant  as,  going 
to  the  back  of  Margaret's  chair,  he  pinched 
her  cheek — much  to  the  young  lady's  annoy- 
ance, as  he  would  have  had  no  diiEculty  in 
perceiving,  had  he  been  in  front  of  her  instead 
of  beiiind  her — and  said, — 

"  We  have  been  sitting  in  council  upon 
your  case,  little  lady  ;  and,  as  far  as  I  can 
see,  we  shall  manage  to  find  the  means  of  pay- 
ing the  butcher's  and  baker's  bills  for  the 
new  nest,  as  far  as  breakfasts  and  dinners  are 
concerned  ;  I  don't  know  about  luncheons  ; 
they  are  abominable  things.  Don't  you  think 
60,  Falconer?  I  don't  think  we  will  allow 
the  young  people  any  luncheon,  eh?  You 
don't  do  anything  in  this  way,  I'll  be 
bound  !  " 

"  Well,  sometimes  just  one  glass  of  sherry, 
especially  when  the  Lindisfarn  sherry  falls 
in  my  way,  and  more  especially  still  when  I 
have  the  opportunity  of  drinking  a  glass  with 
Miss  Immy,"  said  the  banker,  filling  a  glass, 
and  drawing  a  chair  to  the  corner  of  the  table 
by  the  side  of  Miss  Immy. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Falconer,"  said  that 
lady.  "  Your  very  good  health  !  And  I 
drink,"  she  continued,  raising  her  glass  high 
in  the  air  with  a  steady  hand,  though  the 
brown  top-knot  of  ribbons  on  her  cap  shook 
with  the  little  palsied  movement  of  her  head 
which  seemed  to  impart  an  expression  of  in- 
vincible determination  to  the  sentiment  she 
uttered,  "  I  drink  particularly  to  the  health 
and  prosperity  of  Mr.  Frederick  Falconer  and 
his  bride." 

And  the  old  lady  swallowed  her  glass  of 
sherry  with  an  air  of  sacramental  solemnitv. 

A  glance  of  mutual  intelligence  passed 
between  the  two  objects  of  her  good  wishes, 
which,  while  contributing  to  indicate  their 
fitness  for  each  other,  did  much  to  manifest 
their  unfitness  for  communing  with  the  genial, 
honest  hearts  around  them. 

"  Hang  the  old  fool !  "  said  the  features 
of  the  gentleman,  as  plain  as  features  could 
speak ;  while  the  lady's  delicately  flushed 
checks  and  more  eloquent  eyes  managed  to 
express  the  more  complicated  sentiment  of 
her  shame  at  being  related  to  such  Old-World 
Vandals,  and  her  conviction  that  she  and  her 
Frederick  belonged  to  a  far  other  and  far 
superior  •'  monde,^^ 


181 

It  was  necessary  to  say  something,  how- 
ever, and  the  admirable  Frederick  managed 
to  utter,  "  Much  obliged.  Miss  Immy — really, 
— fully  sensible — haw  !  "  And  then  lie  felt 
that  he  had  sacrificed  himself  to  the  extent 
required  by  the  occasion. 

"  Put  out  my  arm  further  than  I  can  draw 
it  back  again,"  thought  the  young  man  to 
himself;  "I  should  think  so  indeed  !  Bat 
there  ! — I  can  see  by  the  governor's  face  that 
it  is  all  right." 

So  the  banker  and  his  son  drove  home  to 
Silverton  together ;  and  their  conversation 
by  the  way  was  of  a  far  more  sensible  nature 
than  that  which  had  passed  between  the 
squire  and  his  daughter. 

"So  that  is  settled,  so  far!"  said  the 
senior.  "  You  remember  what  I  told  you, 
Fred,  once  befare,  when  we  were  driving 
over  this  same  road  together,  that  I  thought 
Kate  the  better  spec.  Well,  I  can  tell 
you  that  the  old  squire  was  monstrously 
inclined  to  fight  shy  of  settling  half  the 
property  on  Margaret.  If  I  had  not  been 
very  firm  with  him  " — 

"  But  it  is  all  right  as  it  is,  I  suppose  !  " 
interrupted  his  son.  "Half  the  estates  to 
be  settled  on  Margaret  on  the  day  of  her 
marriage  !  That's  the  ticket  I  go  for  !  As 
for  Kate,  I  took  the  horse  I  was  most  safe  to 
win  with,  as  I  told  you,  sir,  before.  And 
besides" — 

"  Well,  it  is  all  very  well  as  it  is, — very 
well  ;  I  only  hope  that  I  may  find  old  Slow- 
come  as  easy  to  deal  with  as  the  squire  about 
settlements,"  added  the  banker,  with  an  al- 
most imperceptible  sigh. 

The  old  established  Sillshire  firm  of  Slow- 
come  and  Sligo  were  Mr.  Lindisfarn 's  solici- 
tors. 

"  Why,"  said  Frederick,  answering  rather 
to  the  slight  sigh,  which  had  not  escaped 
him,  than  to  his  father's  words,  "is  there 
any  hitch?  " 

"No!  Hitch!  I  hope  not !  I  am  glad, 
very  glad,  on  the  whole,  that  you  have 
brought  the  matter  to  bear  without  letting 
the  grass  grow  under  your  feet.  But — in 
short,  I  need  not  tell  you  that  in  our  busi- 
ness, what  a  man  can  do  one  day  he  may 
be  unable  to  do  in  another.  Circumstances 
change.  Business  is  very  uncertain  ; — and 
in  ours  we  are  dependent  on  so  many  besides 
ourselves.  A  man  may  bo  struck  down  at 
any  moment  by  no  fault  or  imprudence  of  his 


182 

own.  I  have  had  causes  for  much  serious 
anxiety  of  late.  Why  should  I  trouble  you 
with  them  ?  I  trust,  I  doubt  not,  all  will 
go  well.  And  I  should  have  said  no  word 
of  this  kind  to  you  to-day,  had  it  been  that 
it  is  as  well  to  tell  you  that  I  shall  be  very 
glad  to  see  you  safely  married  to  Miss  ]\Iar- 
gai-et  Lindisfarn,  with  half  the  Lindisfarn 
acres  duly  settled  on  her,  even  if  they  are 
tied  up  as  tight  as  old  Slowcome  can  tie 
them." 

There  was  much  food  for  meditation  for 
our  friend  Fred  in  this  speech.  He  did  not 
like  it.  He  knew  his  father  ;  and  the  more 
he  pondered  over  that  knowledge  in  con- 
nection with  the  words  the  old  banker  had 
been  speaking,  the  more  he  did  not  like  it. 
Nevertheless,  he  thought  it  best  not  to  push 
his  father  for  any  further  explanation  of  his 
words;  but  he  inwardly  resolved  to  make 
that  use  of  the  hints  thrown  out  to  him 
which  it  was  evidently  intended  he  should 
make, — that  is,  to  press  his  aflairs  with  the 
to  as  rapid  a  conclusion  as  might  be 


A  cloud  had  passed  over  the  jolly  squire's 
genial  face,  it  has  been  said,  when  on  coming 
out  from  his  study  with  the  old  banker,  he 
found  that  his  darling  Kate  was  not  in  the 
parlor  with  the  rest  of  the  family  party.  On 
several  occasions  recently,  little  matters  of 
the  same  sort  had  been  unpleasant  to  the 
squire.  He  was  not  one  of  those  men  who 
are  quick  to  observe  the  actions  of  those 
around  them,  and  to  speculate  on,  and  draw 
conclusions  from  them.  But  for  some  days 
past  it  had  been  gradually  forcing  itself  upon 
his  notice  that,  somehow  or  other,  Kate  was 
not  like  her  usual  self.  Instead  of  being 
constantly  seen  about  the  house,  and  still 
more  frequently  heard,  she  was  rarely  seen, 
and  hardly  ever  heard  at  all.  The  huge  old 
staircase  never  echoed  now  to  the  carolling 
of  her  clear,  cheery  voice,  as  she  tripped  up 
it  to  her  room,  or  came  dancing  down  as  of 
old.  She  frequently  made  the  excuse  of 
headache  for  remaining  in  her  own  room, 
always  (only  none  but  her  sister  had  yet 
noticed  the  coincidence)  when  Falconer  was 
there.  Kate  with  a  headache  !  And  yet  her 
looks  gave  abundant  testimony  to  the  genu- 
ineness of  her  excuses. 

At  last  it  had  entered  into  the  head  of  the 
squire  that  Kate's  evident  low  spirits  and  un- 
happiness  must  be  connected  with  the   fact 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 

of  her  sister's  engagement.  And  the  sus- 
picion that  she  herself  was  not  indifferent  to 
Falconer,  came  upon  him  with  a  bitter  pang. 
Could  it  be  that  her  young  heart  had  been 
won  by  a  man,  who,  to  her  father's  thinking, 
was  so  every  way  not  good  enough  for  her^ 
He  did  not  say  to  himself  that,  though  not  fit 
to  tie  Kate's  shoestring,  he  was  good  enough 
for  Margaret's  husband.  But  unconsciously 
this  was  his  feeling  on  the  subject.  There 
seemed  to  be  a  fitness  for  each  other  between 
him  and  Margaret,  which  the  squire  eould 
feel,  though  he  could  not  reason  on  the  sub- 
ject, sufficiently  even  to  formulate  the  per- 
suasion into  words  said  only  to  himself. 
And  he  had  been  content  therefore  to  accept 
the  Falconer  overtures.  But  what  misery 
was  in  store  for  them  all,  if  it  were  really 
true  that  Kate  were  pining  for  her  sister's 
lover. 

Mr.  Mat  to  whom  alone  the  squire  had 
dropped  a  word  upon  the  subject,  utterly 
and  most  vigorously  scouted  the  possibility 
of  such  an  idea.  JMore  likely  Kate  was  vexed 
at  seeing  her  sister  throwing  herself  away  on 
such  a  fellow.  Maybe  she  was  down  in  the 
mouth,  and  off  her  food  a  bit  by  reason  of 
Lady  Farnleigh's  prolonged  absence.  Kate 
had  been  used  to  be  so  constantly  with  her 
ladyship  all  her  life  ;  it  was  well-nigh  miss- 
ing her  mother  like  !  Or  might  be,  said  Mr. 
Mat,  it  was  nothing  at  all  but  just  a  little 
trifle  wrong  in  health,  as  young  girls  would 
be,  which  would  all  come  right  again.  But 
let  it  be  what  it  might,  it  was  not  pining  af- 
ter Fred  Falconer!  AVhat  Kate!  he,  he! 
Mr.  Mat  knew  better  than  that. 

Meanwhile  it  was  most  true  that  Kate  was 
very  miserable.  Upon  that  part  of  the  varied 
causes  for  unhappiness  that  had  fallen  upon 
her  which  more  immediately  concerned  her- 
self, she  strove  to  let  her  thoughts  dwell  as 
little  and  as  rarely  as  possible.  But  we  all 
know,  alas !  how  vain  such  strivings  are. 
And  in  Kate's  case,  condemned,  as  she  was, 
to  a  degree  of  solitude  to  which  she  was 
quite  unaccustomed,  by  the  other  untoward 
circumstances  of  her  present  position,  it  was 
less  possible  than  it  might  otherwise  have 
been  to  warn  the  thoughts  from  off  the  pro- 
hibited ground.  The  progress  of  her  sister's 
affairs  was  a  constant  subject  of  uneasiness 
and  alarm  to  her.  And  the  doubts  and  dif- 
ficulties she  felt  as  to  her  own  conduct,  and 
the  consciousness  that,  while  action  of  any 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


183 


kind  was  impossible  to  her,  even  the  inac- 
tion to  -which  she  condemned  herself  was 
likely  to  give  rise  to  ideas  and  interpreta- 
tions which  it  was  agony  to  her  to  think  of, 
made  those  weeks  a  time  of  great  and  severe 
trial  to  her. 

Meanwhile,  Dr.  Blakistry  was  assiduously 
doing  his  host  for  the  recovery  of  his  patient 
at  Deepcreck  Cottage ;  and  his  eflPorts  were 
well  seconded  by  the  youth  and  constitution 
of  the  wounded  man.  He  was,  in  fact,  pro- 
gressing rapidly  towards  recovery.  Dr. 
Blakistry  kept  Kate  well  informed  as  to  the 
progress  of  the  patient  "in  whom,'"  as  the 
doctor  said,  "  she  had  taken  so  kind  an  in- 
terest." But  of  course  no  word  was  said  be- 
tween them  as  to  the  secret  which  both  of 
them  knew,  and  which  one  of  the  two  knew 
to  be  shared  by  the  other.  Nor  did  Kate 
see  her  cousin  a  second  time.  No  good 
could  have  been  done  by  any  such  visit,  and 
assuredly  nothing 
hoped  for  from  it. 

About  three  weeks  after  the  date  of  Mrs. 
Pendleton's  memorable  visit  to  Kate  on  the 
night  of  the  great  storm, — the  night  before 
the  affair  with  the  Saucy  Sally  and  the  coast- 
guardmen, — Mrs.  Pendleton  again  walked 
up  to  the  Chase.  She  brought  Kate  news  of 
the  very  satisfactory  improvement  in  the  con- 
dition of  her  wounded  guest.  Dr.  Blakistry 
declared  that  in  a  few  days  he  would  be  able 
to  leave  his  room.  Mrs.  Pendleton  also 
handed  to  Kate  a  sealed  note — of  thanks  for 
the  kind  and  charitable  attention  she  had 
shown  to  an  unfortunate  stranger,  the  good 
women  said, — which  her  guest  had  requested 
her  to  put  into  Miss  Kate's  own  hands. 

"It  is  something  more  important  than 
that,"  said  Kate,  when  she  had  read  the 
short  note,  and  tossed  it  into  the  fire  of  the 
housekeeper's  room,  in  which,  as  on  that 
other  occasion,  she  received  her  old  nurse's 
visit.  "It  is  to  request  me  to  send  back  by 
you  a  small  packet,  which  he  begged  me  to 
keep  for  him  when  he  was  persuaded  that 
he  was  going  to  die.     I  will  go  and  get  it." 

So  she  went  up-stairs  to  her  room,  took 
the  little  packet  from  her  desk,  and  putting 
it  into  a  sealed  but  unaddressed  envelope, 
delivered  it  to  Mrs.  Pendleton. 

And  within  a  week  from  that  time, — about 
a  month,  that  is,  after  he  was  wounded, — a 
second  visit  from  Mrs.  Pendleton  brought 
Kate  the  information  that  the  stranger  had 


at  last  been  pronounced  by  Dr.  Blakistry  able 
to  travel,  and  that  he  had  sailed  for  the  oppo- 
site coast  in  the  Saucy  Sally  the  night  be- 
fore. 

Mr.  Pendleton  was  a  very  good  husband, 
as  has  been  said,  smuggler  though  he  was; 
and  had  no  secrets  from  his  wife  which  it 
would  have  much  imported  to  that  excellent 

I  woman  to  hear.     But  he  did  not  think  it 

;  necessary  to  overtask  female  discretion,  and 
torment   female  curiosity,  by  troubling  her 

I  with  matters  which  in  no  wise  concerned  her. 

I  Thus  there  had  been  no  reason  at  all  that  he 
should  tell  her  the  altogether  uninteresting 
fact  that  the  Saucy  Sally  conveyed  on  that 
same  night  another,  nay,  two  other,  passen- 
gers, to  the  coast  of  France.  When  she 
slipped  away  from  Sillmouth  in  the  first  dark 
hours  of  a  moonless  night,  she  had  none  on 
board  save  the  same  crew  with  which  she 
had  made  her  last  dangerous  voyage.  But 
she  did  not  stand  out  at  once  across  the  chan- 

;  nel,  as  would  have  been  her  natural  course. 
On  the  contrary,  Hiram,  who  stood  at  the 
wheel  himself,  and  seemed  as  able  to  feel  or 
smell  his  way  in  the  dark,  as  he  could  have 
seen  it,  if  it  had  been  broad  daylight,  kept 
her  close  in  along  the  coast  to  the  westward, 

.  till  he  was  just  off  a  little  bit  of  a  creek 
formed  by  a  small  stream  which  came  down 
from  the  neighboring  moor.  Having  reached 
that  point,  he  showed  a  green  light  for  an 
instant.  It  was  absolutely  a  merely  momen- 
tary flash.  But  it  sufficed  for  its  purpose  ; 
for  in  a  very  few  minutes,  the  anxious  crew 
of  the  Saucy  Sally  could  hear  the  low  sound 
of  muffled  oars,  and  in  the  next,  a  small  boat 
pulled  along-side  of  them,  as  they  lay  to,  in 
which  there  were  four  persons  ;  a  woman,  a 
child,  a  tall  old  man,  and  a  man  who  had  the 
appearance  of  a  common  sailor. 

The  French  stranger,  who  had  just  recov- 
ered from  his  hurts,  stood  by  the  bulwark  of 
the  Saucy  Sally,  and  tenderly  assisted  and 
received  the  woman  as  she  clambered  from 
the  boat  up  the  lugger's  side.  Then  he  took 
the  boy  from  the  hands  of  the  tall  old  man 
in  the  boat,  and  holding  the  child  in  his 
arms,  darted  down  with  him  into  the  not 
very  brilliantly  lighted  little  cabin  of  the 
smuggler. 

The  lugger  shook  out  its  sails  ;  and  the 
tall  old  man  in  the  boat,  having  regained  the 
lonely  beach  of  that  little-frequented  moor- 
land shore, 


184 

"  Walked  grieving  by  the  margin  of  the  much- 
voiced  sea ' ' 

as  long  as  he  could  descry  the  outline  of  the 
receding  vessel  in  the  darkness ;  and  then 
returned  to  a  not  less  lonely  home  at  Chew- 
ton,  a  few  miles  inland. 

CHAPTER  XXXin. 
PATERNAL  ADVICE. 

Wden  the  news  of  her  cousin's  final  re- 
covery from  his  wounds  and  departure  for 
France  reached  Kate,  her  sister  was  not  with 
her  at  the  Chase.  She  had  been  much  at 
her  uncle's  house  in  the  Close  lately,— an  ar- 
rangement which  had  been  highly  agreeable 
to  all  the  parties  chiefly  concerned.  It  had 
been  a  great  relief  to  Kate  under  the  circum- 
stances that  the  scene  of  the  love-making  be- 
tween her  sister  and  Falconer  should  be 
transferred  from  her  own  home  to  the  house 
in  the  Close  in  Silverton.  Margaret  was  al- 
ways better  pleased  to  be  in  Silverton  than 
at  home,  where,  little  as  there  was  to  amuse 
her  at  her  uncle's,  the  surroundings  were 
still  less  congenial  to  her.  And  now,  of 
course,  more  than  ever,  it  was  agreeable  to 
her  to  be  in  the  near  neighborhood  of  her 
beloved  Frederick. 

To  that  prcux  chevalier  himself  it  was  far 
more  convenient  to  have  his  work  close  at 
hand.  He  found  it  easier  to  do  it,  too,  amid 
the  gentle  dulness  of  the  good  canon's  house, 
and  under  the  protecting  wing  of  the  feebly 
sympathetic  though  profoundly  dispirited 
Lady  Sempronia,  than  amid  the  rougher, 
more  observant,  and  less  congenial  inmates 
of  the  Chase.  Frederick  engaged  in  making 
love  within  possible  ear-shot  or  eye-shot  of 
Mr.  Mat,  always  felt  as  if  he  were  there 
with  a  view  to  stealing  the  silver  spoons. 
Kate's  palpable  avoidance  was  an  annoyance 
to  him.  ]\Iiss  Immy's  old-fashioned  compli- 
ments and  courtesies  and  very  effete  little 
waggeries  bored  and  irritated  him.  And 
even  the  jolly  old  squire's  loud  and  hearty 
words  of  greeting  or  of  jest  were  very  dis- 
tasteful to  him.  In  every  respect  it  was  far 
better  that  his  charmer  should  be  in  Silver- 
ton.  It  gave  him  so  many  more  and  easier 
opportunities  of  acting  in  obedience  to  his 
father's  hint  to  the  effect  that  he  would  do 
well  not  to  let  the  grass  grow  under  his  feet. 

The  old  banker  had  repeated  similar  words 
of  advice  on  one  or  two  occasions,  coupling 
them  with  hints  of  a  kind  which  made  Fred 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


very  seriously  uneasy.  He  could  not  avoid 
seeing,  too,  that  his  father  himself,  though 
striving  hard  to  keep  his  usual  countenance 
and  manner,  was  harassed  by  some  cause  of 
anxiety  and  trouble. 

We  know  how  excellent  a  son  Frederick 
had  always  shown  himself!  And  in  the 
present  circumstances,  as  always,  he  did  his 
utmost  to  comply  with  his  father's  wishes. 
Again  and  agaiu  as  they  walked  together  in 
the  friendly  shade  of  the  trees  under  the  old 
city  wall  in  the  canon's  garden, — the  scene 
of  Frederick's  offer  and  of  hiB  Marguerite's 
acceptance  of  his  love, — he  implored  her  to 
fix  the  day,  and  to  use  her  influence  to  ab- 
breviate the  cruelly  long  delays  and  procras- 
tination of  jNIessrs.  Slowcome  and  Sligo. 
And  Margaret,  if  it  had  been  in  any  wise 
proper,  permissible,  or  possible,  would  have 
replied  that  he  could  not  be  in  a  greater 
hurry  than  she  was.  In  fact,  the  words  of 
Dr.  Blakistry's  opinion  that  her  cousin  Would 
be  well  in  a  month,  were  always  sounding 
like  a  warning  knell  in  her  ears.  As  soon  as 
her  cousin  should  have  recovered,  he  would 
go  away  ;  the  time  for  which  Kate  was  bound 
by  her  promise  of  secrecy  would  have  ex- 
pired, and  then — 

But  Margaret,  of  course,  was  far  too  well 
bred,  and  knew  her  business  far  too  thor- 
oughly to  allow  herself  to  be  hurried  by  this 
urgent  motive  into  any  unbecomingly  easy 
accordance  of  her  lover's  prayer.  Neverthe- 
less, she  allowed  an  admissible  amount  of 
sympathy  and  pity  for  his  impatience  to  ap- 
pear. It  was  with  the  prettiest  play  of  coy- 
ness, and  amid  blushes  and  drooping  of  the 
eyelashes  that  she  admitted  the  detestability 
of  Messrs.  glowcome,  pereetjils,  and  of  Mr. 
Sligo,  and  the  intolerableness  of  their  delays. 

At  length,  one  day, — it  was  towai'ds  the 
close  of  business  hours  in  the  Silverton  Bank, 
— Mr.  Falconer  sent  to  ask  his  son  to  step 
into  his  private  sanctum.  Frederick  met  Mr. 
Fishbourne,  looking,  he  observed,  very  grave, 
passing  out  from  conference  with  his  chief, 
as  he  went  in. 

"  Well,  Fred,"  said  his  father,  as  he  en- 
tered, evidently  striving  to  brighten  up  a 
little,  and  to  speak  as  cheerfully  as  he  could, 
' '  1  sent  for  you  to  ask  how  affairs  are  get- 
ting on  between  you  and  Margaret.  You 
have  had  her  all  to  yourself  for  some  days 
past,  down  in  the  Close  here." 

"  And  I  flatter  myself  I  have  not  neglected 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


185 


my  opportunities,  sir,"  replied  Frederick, 
epeaking  in  the  same  tone.  "In  fact,"  he 
added,  a  little  more  seriously,  "  I  have  noth- 
ing to  complain  of,  and  in  truth  I  believe  I 
might  have  it  pretty  well  all  my  own  way, 
were  it  not  for  that  horridly  slow  coach,  old 
Slowoome.  It  is  to  Slowcome  and  Sligo,  sir, 
that  you  should  address  yourself  rather  than 
to  me,  with  a  view  to  doing  anything  tow- 
ard hastening  the  match." 

"Hasten  old  Slowcome!  Humph!  If 
the  end  of  the  world  were  fixed  for  twelve 
o'clock  this  day  week  punctually,  do  you 
think  Slowcome  would  move  one  jot  the 
faster,  or  omit  a  single  repetition  of  '  execu- 
tors," and  '  administrators  '  from  his  '  draft 
for  counsel '  ?  Not  he.  Now  look  here,  my 
dear  boy.  I  am  sure  you  have  the  good  sense 
to  make  the  best  use  of  any  hint  I  may  be 
able  to  give  you  for  your  guidance,  without 
seeking  to  ask  questions  concerning  matters 
which  it  is  better  not  to  trouble  you  with  " — 

"  Good  heavens,  father  !  " — 

"  Gently,  my  dear  boy,  gently  !  do  not 
agitat*  yourself.  I  trust  there  is  no  occa- 
sion for  you  to  feel  any  agitation.  I  hope — 
I  have  every  hope  that  all  will  go  well.  But 
there  are  circumstances  that  make  me  think 
it  my  duty  to  tell  you  that  if  your  marriage 
with  Miss  Lindisfarn  could  be  hastened,  it 
would  be — ahem — prudent  to  do  it !  " 

"  I've  told  you,  sir,  that  we  are  only  wait- 
ing for  these  troublesome  settlements.  Once 
for  all,  I  believe,  that  as  soon  as  the  papers 
are  signed,  I  may  name  the  day  as  soon  as  I 
like." 

"  But  as  far  as  I  see,  it  may  be  a  month  or 
more  before  that  will  be  done!  "  said  the 
old  man,  fidgeting  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  it  wiU  !  "  returned  his 
son  ;  ' '  but  what  in  the  world  can  I  do  to 
hurry  the  old  fellow  ?  " 

"  Nothing  ;  nothing  would  hurry  him  ! 
But  sometimes,"  and  the  old  man  looked 
furtively  up  into  his  son's  face  as  the  latter 
stood  lounging  with  his  arms  crossed  on  the 
high  back  of  the  writing-table  at  which  his 
father  was  sitting,  "  in  the  days  when  I  was 
young,  an  impatient  and  ardent  lover  was  not 
always  content  to  wait  for  the  tedious  for- 
malities of  the  lawyers." 

"  What !  marry  without  any  settlements  at 
all !  "  exclaimed  the  "  ardent  lover,"  staring 
at  his  fiither  in  open-eyed  astonishment,  as  if 
he  suspected  that  he  was  losing  his  senses. 


■  Pooh,  pooh,  without  settlements  at  all ! 
Who  spoke  of  marrying  without  settlements ?j 
In  such  a  case  as  yours  it  would  of  course  be 
all  the  same  thing  if  the  deeds  were  signed 
before  or  after  !  The  substance  of  them  has 
been  all  agreed  to." 

"  But  would  the  old  people  at  the  Chase 
consent?"  said  Frederick,  doubtfully. 

"Pshaw!  consent!  Why,  Fred,  one  would 
think  you  had  tlie  blood  of  seventy-seven  in 
your  veins  instead  of  tliat  belonging  to  twen- 
ty-seven !  Of  course  the  old  folks  would  not 
consent.  Of  course  I  should  not  consent ! 
Ha,  ha,  ha  !  We  did'  not  always  ask  the 
consent  of  papa  and  mamma  in  my  day." 

Fi-ederick,  looking  down  on  his  father  from 
the  other  side  of  the  high-backed  writing- 
table,  keenly  and  observantly,  as  he  spoke 
the  above  words,  did  not  seem  to  be  at  all 
stirred  up  by  them  to  any  of  that  hot-headed 
ardor  which  the  old  gentleman  appeared  to 
think  would  become  his  years.  He  grew,  on 
the  contrary,  graver  in  manner,  and  felt  very 
uneasy. 

"  But,  suppose,  sir,"  he  answered,  watch- 
ing his  father  narrowly  as  he  spoke, — "  sup- 
pose my  natural  impatience  prompted  me  to 
take  such  a  step  as  you  hint  at,  is  it  likely 
that  Margaret  would  consent  to  it?  " 

"  Nay,  that  is  your  affair, — altogether 
your  affair,  my  dear  boy.  I  suppose  no  girl 
ever  consented  to  such  a  step  unless  she  were 
pretty  vigorously  pressed  to  do  so  ;  but  very 
many  have  consented." 

"  Margaret  has  an  uncommonly  shrewd 
head  of  her  own  ;  she  has  al)undance  of 
sound  common  sense  !  "  said  Fred,  musingly, 
and  speaking  more  to  himself  than  to  his 
father. 

"  I  am  sure  she  has  !  Without  it,  she 
would  not  have  been  the  girl  for  you,  Fred. 
But  what  would  you  have?  Girls  are  ro- 
mantic— a  thing  represented  to  them  in  a 
poetical  point  of  view,  you  know  " — 

"  But  again,  father,  supposing  that  I 
could  induce  Margaret  to  consent  to  such  a 
step,  would  it  be,  looking  at  it  from  our  point 
of  view,  a  safe  one  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  there  would  be  much  dan- 
ger," replied  his  father,  speaking  in  a  de- 
cided and  business-like  tone,  very  diirerent 
from  that  in  which  he  had  been  hitherto 
talking.  "I  am  very  much  convinced,"  he 
continued,  "  that  there  would  be  no  danger 
at  all.     The  old  squire,  even  if  he  has  ever 


186 

had  a  thought  of  anything  else  than  divid- 
ing the  property  equally  between  the  two 
girls,  would  never  budge  from  his  word  given 
to  me.  Trust  me,  the  old  squire's  word  is 
as  good  as  any  settlement  old  Slowcome  can 
make,  any  day.  Certainly,  I  do  not  mean 
to  say,"  continued  the  old  banker,  "  that 
the  step  in  question  would  be  one  which  I 
should  counsel  under  ordinary  circumstances. 
There  would  be,  no  doubt,  a  certain  possi- 
bility of  risk  ;  and  it  is  always  unwise  to 
run  any  risk,  if  it  can  be  avoided.  But  I 
have  already  told  you,  my  dear  Fred,  that 
there  are  reasons, — there  are  reasons.  Very 
possibly,  in  all  probability,  there  may  be 
nothing  in  them  ;  but — if  you  can  steal  a 
march  on  old  Slowcome,  and  do  the  job,  at 
once,  why,  I  should  advise  you  to  do  it.  We 
old  birds  should  be  very  angry,  of  course," 
added  the  old  gentleman,  with  an  attempt  at 
a  smile,  which  the  evident  anxiety  in  his 
face  rendered  a  sorry  failure  ;  "  but  we  should 
be  very  forgiving." 

"  Well,  sir,  as  you  tell  me  I  had  better 
not,  I  will  not  attempt  to  question  you  ; 
and  I  will  think  very  seriously  of  all  you 
have  said,  and  be  guided  by  it,  as  far  as  is 
practicable." 

"  And  look  here,  Fred,"  said  his  father, 
opening  the  drawer  of  his  writing-table,  and 
taking  from  it  an  unsealed  envelope,  "  I  have 
not  calculated  at  all  accurately  the  cost  of 
posting  from  here  to  Gretna.  It  is  a  long 
journey  ;  but  I  thiuk  that  there  is  enough 
there  to  do  it,  if  you  should  happen  to  need 
such  a  thing.  Four  horses  make  the  guineas 
as  well  as  the  milestones  fly.  But  there 
would  not  be  much  chance  of  your  being 
pursued.  There  would  only  be  a  bit  of  a 
lecture  and  a  blessing,  and  a  laugh  against 
Slowcome,  when  you  came  back  all  tied  as 
fast  as  Vulcan  could  tic  you." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Fred,  pocketing 
the  bank-notes.  "  Depend  upon  it,  I  will  put 
your  advice  to  the  best  profit  I  can." 

So  the  younger  man  went  out,  very  far 
from  easy  in  his  mind,  leaving  the  senior 
■with  his  hands  deeply  plunged  in  his  pock- 
ets, and  his  head  fallen  forward  on  his  breast, 
in  deep  and  anxious  thought. 

In  truth,  he  had  but  too  much  reason  for 
anxiety.  A  most  unlucky  combination  of 
unfortunate  circumstances  falling  together 
had,  in  fact,  placed  the  bank  in  very  critical 
circumstances.     And  it  was  quite  a  touch- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


and-go  matter  with  the  old  established  firm 
to  get  on  from  day  to  day  without  a  catas- 
trophe. Mr.  Fishbourne  said  (to  his  partner 
only)  that  it  was  quite  providential  that 
they  had  succeeded  in  weathering  the  storm 
as  long  as  they  had.  But  he  did  not  appear 
to  have  any  comfortable  reliance  on  the  sta- 
bility of  the  intention  of  Providence  with  re- 
gard to  the  old  Silverton  Bank. 

Frederick's  favorite  time  for  paying  his 
visits  to  the  house  in  the  Close  was  the  hour 
of  the  afternoon  service  in  the  cathedral. 
The  spring  had  not  yet  ripened  into  summer  ; 
but  the  season  was  sufficiently  advanced  to 
render  the  sheltered  walk  in  the  canon's  gar- 
den at  that  quiet  hour  extremely  pleasant. 
The  doctor  was  sure  to  be  absent  at  the 
cathedral.  Lady  Sempronia,  if  she  went  out 
at  all,  did  so  at  that  time.  If,  as  was  more 
frequently  the  case,  she  did  not  go  out,  she 
was  reposing  on  the  sofa  in  the  cheerless 
drawing-room  after  the  wearing  fatigue  of 
doing  nothing  all  day,  and  recruiting  her 
strength  for  that  great  hour  of  trial  and 
effort, — the  dinner-hour. 

Frederick  was  at  that  time  safe,  therefore, 
to  find  his  Margaret  at  liberty  to  give  her- 
self up  entirely  to  him;  and  the  gathering 
gloom  of  evening  only  served  to  make  the 
shaded  terrace-walk  under  the  old  wall  all 
the  more  delightful. 

It  was  just  about  the  usual  hour  of  his 
visit,  when  he  parted  from  his  father  in  the 
bank  parlor  ;  and  he  walked  straight  across 
the  Close  to  the  senior  canon's  house,  bent 
on  at  once  feeling  his  way  towai-d  the  execu- 
tion of  the  project  his  father  had  shadowed 
forth  to  him.  It  was  not  that  he  went  to 
the  work  with  a  very  light  heart,  or  a  very 
good  will.  But  he  was  profoundly  impressed 
with  the  conviction  that  his  father  would  not 
have  spoken  in  the  manner  he  had,  if  there 
had  not  been  very  grave  reasons  for  doing 
so.  And  with  regard  to  the  prudence  of  the 
step,  as  far  as  concerned  Miss  Margaret's  for- 
tune, he  quite  agreed  with  his  father  in 
feeling  that  the  old  squire's  word  upon  the 
subject  was  as  safe  as  any  bond. 

So  he  knocked  at  the  door,  and  asked  the 
servant,  who  had  long  since  come  to  under- 
stand that  the  gentleman  had  the  right  to 
make  such  an  inquiry,  if  Miss  Margaret  was 
in  the  garden. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  you  will  find  her  on  the  terrace, 
I  have  no  doubt,"  said  the  old  man,  whose 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


187 

Of  course  Margaret  had  been  for  some  days 
past  prepared  for  this  event,  and  aware  that 
it  would  not  be  deferred  much  longer.  Nev- 
ertheless, it  gave  her  a  shock  to  learn  that 
the  dreaded  moment  had  absolutely  arrived. 
Would  Kate  reveal  the  facts  immediately, 
was  the  question  !  Kate  urgently  desired 
now  that  she  was  free  to  do  so.  That  her 
sister,  in  the  note,  to  return  at  once  to  the 
Chase,  that  they  might  talk  the  matter 
over  together.  And  Margaret  considered 
that  this  was  a  favorable  sign.  If  Kate  in- 
tended to  tell  at  all  hazards,  she  would  rather 
have  done  so,  thought  Margaret,  making  the 
error  that  all  such  INIargarets  make  in  specu- 
lating on  the  conduct  of  such  Kates,  with- 
out saying  anything  about  it  to  her. 

At  all  events,  Margaret  determined  to  obey 
her  sister's  summons  and  go  up  to  the  Chase 
the  next  morning.  She  had  sent  back  an 
answer  by  young  Dick  Wyvill,  who  had 
brought  in  Kate's  note  on  the  pony  of  all 
that  every  smallest  movement  or  indication  work,  to  the  effect  that  she  would  be  ready 
which  escaped  either  of  them  should  be,  with  immediately  after  breakfast,  if  Kate  could 
the  unfoiling  quickness  of  instinct,  seized  on,  '  prevail  on  Mr.  Mat  to  come  in  for  her  in  the 
examined,  noted,  and  interpreted  by  the  '  gig.  If  not,  the  carriage  must  be  sent, 
other  !  She  had  sent  this  reply,  and  was  conning 

The  simple  fact  as  to  the  paper  which  over  again  Kate's  note,  to  see  if  she  could 
Margaret,  wnth  such  conscious  but  unneces-  i  extract  from  it  any  evidence  of  the  writer's 
sary  haste,  concealed  at  the  approach  of  her  mood  of  mind  respecting  the  all-important 
lover,  is  that  it  was  a  note  from  Kate,  which  i  question,  when  she  saw  her  lover  emerging 
had  been  given  to  her  about  a  quarter  of  an  }  from  the  thick  clump  of  Portugal  laurels 
hour  previously,  communicating  to  her  the  '  which  filled  the  corner  of  the  garden  at  the 
tidings  the  former  had  received  from  Mrs.  end  of  the  terrace  nearest  to  the  house,  and 
Pendleton,  of  the  convalescence  and  recovery  hastened  forward  to  meet  him. 
of  her  inmate. 


time  for  translation  to  a  vergership  had  al- 
most come,  smiling  knowingly  at  the  visitor. 

"  Then,  if  you  will  let  me  out,  Parsons, 
I  will  go  into  thc_  garden  through  the  study, 
so  as  not  to  disturb  Lady  Sempronia,  if  she 
is  at  home." 

So  Falconer  passed  into  the  quiet  garden, 
and  found  ]Margaret  on  the  terrace-walk  as 
usual.  She  was  at  the  farther  end  of  it 
when  he  came  within  sight  of  her,  and  was 
reading  a  note,  or  paper  of  some  sort,  which 
she  thrust  away  immediately  on  catching 
sight  of  him. 

It  was  natural  enough  that  she  should  put 
away  anything  that  she  was  reading  when 
she  came  forward  to  meet  him.  Neverthe- 
less, there  was  a  something  about  the  man- 
ner of  the  action  that  caused  her  fond  Fred 
to  take  observant  note  of  it.  Perhaps  it 
was  in  the  nature  of  the  intercourse  between 
these  two  young  hearts,  so  specially  fitted 
for  each  other,  as  the  old  squire  had  observed, 


188 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
DIAMOND  CUT   DIAMOND, 

Frederick  advanced  along  the  terrace  un- 
der the  city  wall,  to  meet  his  lady-love,  with 
the  slow  step  and  downcast  mien  of  a  man 
thoroughly  despondent  and  broken.  Mar- 
garet, her  hands  extended  a  little  in  front  of 
her,  as  in  eager  welcome,  and  her  face  bent 
forward,  came  toward  him  with  a  quick  step, 
which  broke  into  a  little  run  as  she  neared 
him,  very  prettily  eloquent  of  her  impatience 
to  meet  him. 

The  lady  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  Frederick,  dear !  you  seem  as  if  you 
were  not  glad  to  see  me!  And  I,  —  how 
I  have  counted  the  hours  till  that  came 
which  I  might  hope  would  bring  you  to  me  ! 
What  is  it?     Is  anything  the  matter?  " 

"  Anything  the  matter !  "  re-echoed  Fred, 
in  a  tone  of  profound  discouragement,  taking 
her  two  hands  in  his,  and  holding  her  by 
them  at  arm's  length  from  him,  while  he 
looked  into  her  face  with  an  expression  of 
the  intensest  pathos  and  misery,  —  *'  any- 
thing the  matter  !  Ah,  Margaret !  But  I  sup- 
pose girls  do  not  feel  as  men  do  in  these  cases, 
and  that  it  is  therefore  impossible  for  you  to 
sympathize  with  my  horrible  torture." 

"Gracious  Heaven,  Frederick!  Horrible 
torture  !  What  is  it?  For  God's  sake,  have 
no  secrets  from  me  !  Tell  me  what  is  the 
matter !  " 

The  words  and  the  form  of  speech,  and  the 
manner  of  speaking  them,  as  far  as  the  by 
no  means  inconsiderable  talents  of  the  speak- 
er could  accomplish  it,  expressed  extreme 
anxiety  and  agitation.  But  I  do  not  think 
that  tlae  lovely  white  bosom,  from  which  they 
came,  caused  the  Honiton  lace  which  veiled 
it  to  flutter  one  jot  quicker  a  motion  than 
it  had  done  before. 

"  The  matter,  Margaret !  "  returned  Fred, 
in  a  tone  of  worn-out,  listless  despondency  ; 
"the  matter  is  no  more  than  you  know  — 
the  old  story  —  more  delays!  no  prospect 
of  the  end  of  them  that  I  can  see !  Oh, 
Margaret,  my  heart  wearies  so  for  the  hour 
when  I  can  call  you  mine  !  I  am  sick, — sick 
with  the  hcartsickness  that  comes  of  hope 
long  deferred.  But  you — weeks  or  months 
are  all  the  same  to  you.  You  can  wait 
patiently  ;  you  have  no  sympathy  with  my 
horrible  impatience.  Ah,  Margaret,  you 
do  not  love  me  as  I  love  you.  It  would  be 
impossible  for  you,  if  you  did,  to  endure 


these  never-ending,  still-beginning  delays  so 
tranquilly." 

"  My  Frederick,  you  are  unjust  to  me  !  Do 
you  not  know  that  your  wishes  are  my 
wishes?  Do  you  not  know  that  I  would 
fain  do  your  pleasure  in  all  things?  Do  not 
suppose  that  all  this  delay  is  otherwise  than 
odious  to  me  also, — odious  to  me  because  I 
know  that  it  vexes  you,  my  own  love  !  "  and 
the  beautiful,  dangerous  creature  looked  into 
his  eyes,  as  she  spoke,  with  a  brimming  ful- 
ness of  sympathy  and  fondnes  sthat  might 
have  melted  a  heart  of  adamant. 

"  Dearest !  "  said  he,  passing  from  the  po- 
sition in  which  he  had  hitherto  stood  at  arm's 
length  in  front  of  her,  to  her  side,  while  he 
twined  her  arm  under  his,  and  took  the  hand 
belonging  to  it  between  both  of  his  hands  ; 
"  my  own  Marguerite!  forgive  me,  if  all  I 
suffer  makes  me  peevish  and  unjust.  But  it 
is  too  bad.  There  is  no  end  to  it.  That  old 
beast,  Slowcome  has  no  more  feeling  than  his 
own  great  ruler,  which  I  should  like  to  break 
over  his  stupid  old  bald  pate !  " 

"  Is  there  anything  new,  —  any  new  cause 
of  delay,  I  mean?" — asked  Margaret,  with 
really  unaffected  interest.  For  time  was 
most  important  to  her  too.  Heaven  only' 
could  know  how  important  it  might  be  ! 
Here  was  Julian  safe  away  out  of  England. 
Kate  free  to  tell  the  horrid,  horrid  truth 
that  would  ruin  everything  and  drive  her 
Frederick  from  her  side,  as  if  she  had  the 
pestilence,  at  any  moment.  Who  could  tell 
when  the  thunderbolt  might  fall,  or  how 
much  time  was  yet  left  her  to  shelter  herself 
in  the  haven  of  matrimony,  before  the  flood 
should  come  and  devour  her,  and  suck  her, 
with  its  hideous  under-draft,  away  from  that 
safe  harbor  forever?  Yes,  time  was  fully  as 
important  to  Margaret  as  it  was  to  her  fond 
Frederick.  If  he  could  have  known  the  sin- 
cerity of  alarm  with  which  she  asked  if  there 
were  any  new  cause  of  delay,  he  would  not 
have  accused  her,  assuredly,  of  lack  of  sym- 
pathy with  him. 

"I  do  not  know.  How  should  I  know? 
I  do  not  understand  their  abominable  non- 
sense ;  it  seems  to  me  that  that  brute  Slow- 
come  takes  a  pleasure  in  making  it  as  long- 
some  as  possible.  I  see  no  prospect  of  any 
end." 

"  But  is  there  any  new  cause  of  delay, 
Frederick,— anything  that  they  did  not  know 
before  ?  "  asked  Margaret,  with  real  interest. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


189 


"No,  nothing  new,  that  I  am  aware  of. 
How  should  there  be?  It  is  all  perfectly 
clear  and  thorouglily  known  to  all  parties 
concerned.  Your  father  gives  you  half  the 
Lindiefarn  property.  My  father  gives  me  all 
he  has  in  the  world.  The  matter  is  clear 
enough,  I  think.  As  if  that  could  not  be 
written  down  and  signed  and  sworn  to,  if 
they  think  it  necessary,  in  half  an  hour,  with- 
out writing  Heaven  only  knows  how  many 
skins  of  parchment  about  it !  And  all  to 
prevent  you  or  mc  from  cheating  each  other, 
my  Marguerite.  Is  it  not  absurd  ?  Is  it  not 
too  bad  that  we  should  have  to  weary  and 
pine  our  hearts  out  for  such  impossible 
trash?  It  is  monstrous, —  positively  mon- 
strous ! " 

"  It  is  indeed,  dearest.  But,  surely,  a 
great  deal  might  be  written  in  a  whole  day, 
even  of  those  horrid  parchments,  if  they 
would  only  be  industrious  about  it.  When 
does  Mr.  Slowcome  think  it  will  be  done?" 
asked  Margaret,  with  the  prettiest  childlike 
innocence. 

"I  am  sure  I  don't  know!  There  is  no 
getting  anything  out  of  him — the  old  wretch ! 
He  rubs  his  hands  together,  and  twists  his 
watch-chain,  and  seems  as  pleased  as  possi- 
ble when  he  tcllo  inj  wioli  a  grin  that,  '  Every 
expedition  will  be  used,  Mr.  Frederick,  that 
is  consistent  with  the  care  and  scrupulous 
attention  which  it  is  my  duty  to  pay  to  the 
interests  of  my  clients,  ]\Ir.  Frederick.  Draft 
settlement  for  counsel  has  been  proposed — 
counsel  must  have  time  ' —  Ugh  !  I  could 
strangle  the  brute  as  he  stands  before  me. 
Nothing  on  earth  can  make  him  even  speak 
an^  quicker  than  his  usual  little  self-satisfied 
quaver,  with  a  ha-ha-hum  between  every  two 
words!  " 

"It  is  very  vexatious,"  murmured  Mar- 
garet, with  gentle  sympathy. 

"  Oh,  vexatious  !  It  is  hopeless !  I  see  no 
end  to  it.  I  declare  I  believe  in  my  heart 
that  old  Slowcome  knows  that  it  will  be 
another  month  before  the  deeds  are  ready. 
And  aU  for  such  nonsense  too  !  If  it  were 
really  necessary — really  something  conducive 
to  the  happiness  or  welfare  of  my  darling,  I 
would  wait, — I  would  be  patient.  But  that 
one's  days,  which  might  be  days  of  unspeak- 
able happiness,  should  be  turned  into  days 
of  weary,  wearing  suffering,  and  all  for  noth- 
ing— it  is  too  bad!  " 

' '  I  suppose  that  others  have  had  to  suffer 


from  the  same  annoyances.  I  suppose  that 
these  vexations  are  unavoidable,"  said  Mar- 
garet, in  a  voice  that  seemed  meant  to  coun- 
sel resignation. 

"  I  dare  say  that  there  may  be  other  Slow- 
comes  in  the  world ;  and  I  suppose  that  in 
some  cases  it  may  be  necessary  to  wait  for  the 
completion  of  their  work.  But  the  heart- 
break of  the  thing  is  that,  in  our  case,  it  is 
all  M?mecessary,  that  we  are  condemned  to 
this  horrible  delay  for  the  sake  of  mere  com- 
pliance with  a  matter  of  routine — and  that, 
too,  to  please  a  stupid  old  lawyer,  who,  of 
course,  sees  his  interest  in  considering  and 
representing  such  ceremonies  as  absolutely 
indispensable, — all  to  satisfy  Messrs.  Slow- 
come and  Sligo." 

"It  is  very  hard,"  murmured  Margaret, 
administering  at  the  same  time  a  little  pres- 
sure of  her  fair  fingers  against  the  palm  that 
held  them. 

"  When  we  know,  too,  that  it  is  only  for 
the  lawyers ;  that  neither  your  father  nor 
mine  would  either  of  them  dream  of  distrust- 
ing the  other,  or  fancying  it  necessary  to 
wait  for  the  signature  of  papers  !  " 

"  Are  these  bothersome  papers  always 
signed  before  the  marriage?  "  said  Margaret, 
in  a  very  low  voice,  scarcely  above  her  breath, 
while  she  again  very  slightly  pressed  his 
hand  with  hers. 

"I  don't  know;  I  should  think  not! 
Why,  it  is  just  like  the  huckster,  who  will 
not  let  his  goods  go  out  of  his  hand  till  the 
money  has  been  paid  over  the  counter, — it  is 
disgusting !  " 

"  I  am  sure  that  there  can  be  no  shadow 
of  such  feeling  either  in  your  fother  or 
in  mine !  "  said  Margaret. 

"  Of  course  not !  That  is  what  I  say.  It 
is  so  very  hard,  so  intolerable  to  be  sacri- 
ficed to  the  absurdities  and  mere  blind  rou- 
tine of  such  an  animal  as  old  Slowcome  !  If 
I  thought  for  an  instant  that  it  was  a  matter 
which  your  dear  good  father  would  care 
about,  I  should  be  for  submitting  with  the 
best  grace  we  could." 

"Should  be  for  submitting,  Frederick — 
why,  what  else  can  we  do,  alas?  What  pos- 
sible alternative  is  open  to  us,  save  submit- 
ting with,  as  you  say,  the  best  grace  we 
may?  " 

"  There  is  an  alternative,  Margaret !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Frederick?  " 

"  An  alternative,  which  many  a  loving 


190  LINDISFARN    CHASE. 

couple,  who  yet   have  loved  lees  truly,  less  called  on  to  assist  in  all  the  marriages  that 

madly  than  I  love  you,  have  had  recourse  to."   are    made?     Do    you    suppose    that   Dick 

"For    Heaven's  sake  explain  yourself!"    plough-boy  and  Jenny  dairy-maid  trouble  the 

and  do  not,  ah,  do  not  speak  of  your  lovcj  lawyers  to  draw  their  settlements  before  they 


for  me  as  if  it  were  greater  than  mine  for 
you.     It  is  not  so,  Frederick." 

"  The  explanation  is  a  very  simple  one, 
Margaret  !  It  is  simply  to  laugh  at  the 
lawyers  ;  and  leave  them  to  finish  their  slow 
work  at  their  own  slow  pace,  and  at  their 
leisure." 

"  How  do  you  mean,  dearest?  "  said  Mar- 
garet, with  a  perfection  of  ingemiite,  which 
completely  imposed  upon  her  adorer.  For 
now  that  she  was  quite  sure  that  Fred  was 
on  the  road  that  suited  her  own  views,  it 
was  not  only  needless  to  lend  him  any  further 
helping  or  guiding  hand,  but  was  in  every 
way  best  that  she  should  make  a  little  diffi- 
culty in  yielding  to  the  proposal  which,  to 
her  great  delight  and  no  small  surprise,  she 
saw  plainly  enough  was  coming. 

"  I  mean,  dearest  and  best,"  said  Freder- 
ick, passing  his  arm  round  her  waist  and 
drawing  her  gently  to  his  side,  a  movement 
which,  under  the  circumstances  of  the  case, 
Bhe  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  resist  en- 
tirely, contenting  herself  with  drawing  back 
a  little  from  him,  and  gazing  wistfully  and 
with  eai*nest  inquiring  eyes  into  his  face  the 
while,  as  if  wholly  engrossed  by  her  interest 
in  the  reply  he  was  about  to  make  to  her,— 
"1  mean,  dearest,  that  after  all,  it  is  noth- 
ing but  our  own  will  that  makes  us  wait  the 
convenience  of  Slowcome,  Sligo,  and  Co.  ; 
that  if  we  two  will  it  so,  there  is  nothing  on 
earth  that  can  prevent  our  becoming  man 
and  wife  without  asking  their  permission, 
and  leaving  them,  as  I  said,  to  finish  their 
papers  and  their  signing  and  sealing  at  their 
leisure." 

"Oh,  Frederick !  "  cried  Margaret,  look- 
ing at  him  with  admirably  counterfeited  dis- 
may ;  "how  can  that  be?"  Are  not  the 
papers,  which  those  vexatious  lawyers  arc 
so  long  about,  necessary  to  the  performance 
of  a  marriage?  Can  a  marriage  be  made 
without  them?" 

"  Why,  jyou  dear,  innocent  little  simple- 
ton," said  Frederick,  with  that  manifesta- 
tion of  superiority  which  even  if  manifested 
in  a  more  accurate  knowledge  of  the  amount 
of  population  at  Pekin,  is  so  delightful  to 
some  men  ;  do  you  suppose  that  Slowcome 
und  Sligo,   or  any  of   their  compeers,  are 


are  made  man  and  wife?  And  yet,  Marga- 
ret," continued  her  mentor,  assuming  a 
graver  tone  of  pious-sounding  unction,  "  they 
are  married  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  of  his 
church,  and  of  the  law  of  the  land,  as  holily 
and  as  irrevocably  as  any  lord  or  lady  in  it." 

"And  is  that  really  so?"  returned  his 
pretty  pupil,  looking  up  at  him  with  a  beau- 
tiful commingling  of  interest  and  admiration. 
The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  was  not  more 
completely  aware  of  the  self-evident  nature 
of  the  truths  her  lover  was  laying  down 
thus  authoritatively,  than  was  Miss  Marga- 
ret Lindisfarn.  But  the  air  of  nascent  con- 
viction was  perfect  with  which  she  added, 
"  And  yet  it  must  be  so  ;  of  course  it  must. 
All  the  poor  people  cannot  have  lawyers 
bothering  for  months  about  them." 

"  Of  course  not.  I  have  told  you  already, 
these  accursed  settlements  are  precautions  to 
prevent  me  and  my  father  from  cheating  you 
and  your  father,  and  to  prevent  you  and 
your  father  from  cheating  me  and  mine ! 
It  is  humiliating  to  think  of  it.  That  is  the 
meaning  of  them.  It  is  very  proper,  you 
will  understand,  my  love,  that  these  settle-*' 
ments  should  be  made,  because  men  and 
women  are  mortal ;  our  parents  must  die  ; 
we  shall  ourselves  die ;  things  must  be 
recorded ;  and  the  interesta  of  those  that 
come  after  us  (lady's  eves  cast  down  to  the 
ground  here,  with  an  inimitable  movement 
of  the  head,  that  was  in  itself  a  perfect 
study)  must  be  ai-rrnged,  cared  for,  and  pro 
tected.  It  is  perltjtly  right  and  necessary 
that  these  settlements  should  be  made  ;  but 
there  can  be  no  necessity  of  waiting  for 
them,  unless  either  of  us  distrusts  the  other. 
Can  you  trust  me,  my  Margaret?  " 

"Frederick,  can  you  ask  such  a  ques- 
tion?" said,  or .  almost  sobbed,  Margaret, 
with  a  gush  of  emotion  that  would  al- 
most have  carried  away  old  Slowcome  him- 
self in  its  impetuous  rush  of  candor.  "  Trust 
you,  great  heaven  !  Have  I  not  trusted  you  ? 
Have  I  not  trusted  you  with  more  and  bet- 
ter, I  would  fain  hope,  than  money  or  acres? 
I  have  trusted  my  heart  to  your  keeping  t 
Frederick,  I  think  I  may  trust  the  rest. 
Trust  you!  Ah,  Frederick,  can  there  Y-h 
love,  where  there  is  not  perfect  trust?" 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


And  she  clasped  her  two  exquisitely 
gloved  little  hands  together  as  she  spoke, 
and  raised  them  and  her  large,  dark,  liquid 
eyes  towards  the  sky,  while  the  admirably 
fitting  silk,  tight  drawn  over  the  well-devel- 
oped bosom,  and  the  delicate  lace  that  filled 
the  middle  space  between  the  two  sides  of 
her  dress,  rose  and  fell  with  the  panting 
violence  of  her  emotion.  The  figure,  the 
expression,  the  action  was  perfect,  and  very 
beautiful.  The  play  was  almost  too  good 
for  the  occasion  ;  it  was  almost  too  good  for 
the  inferior  player  who  had  to  play  up  to 
her.  It  was  impossible  for  him  not  to  be 
moved  by  the  physical  beauty  of  the  face 
and  figure  before  him.  But  the  perfect 
vraisrmbfance  and  strength  of  the  moral  emo- 
tion rather  startled  and  frightened  him. 
He  felt  somewhat  as  a  mere  park  rider,  who 
expects  his  horse  to  go  through  the  expected 
manege  of  curvetting  and  dancing  might  feel 
if  the  graceful  creature  were  all  of  a  sudden 
to  take  to  rearing  in  violent  and  veritable 
earnest.  He  began  to  doubt  whether  there 
might  not  possibly  be  some  difficulty  in 
keeping  his  seat  under  all  circumstances  and 
contingencies.  He  pulled  himself,  however, 
as  well  as  he  could,  up  to  the  moral  eleva- 
tion demanded  by  the  nature  of  the  occasion, 
and  replied, — 

"  Thanks,  Margaret,  thanks,  my  own 
love.  It  is  no  more  than  I  expected  of  you  ; 
but  your  perfect  confidence  is  very  touching 
to  me.  I  shall  never  forget  it.  Heaven 
bless  you  for  it ! — What  I  was  about  to  say 
to  you  was,  that  if,  indeed,  you  place  such 
entire  confidence  in  me,  there  is,  in  reality, 
no  reason  why  we  should  wear  our  hearts 
out  by  waiting  for  these  dull  dogs  of  law- 
yers." 

'•  I  am  quite  ready  to  do  anything  that 
you  may  think  best  and  wisest,  my  dear 
Frederick.  As  I  have  told  you,  your  wishes 
are  mine.  What  would  you  propose  to 
do?" 

"  Simply  to  marry, — to  be  made  man  and 
wife,  and  let  the  papers  be  signed  afterward 
when  they  are  ready." 

"  I  suppose  our  parents  would  make  no 
objection?"  said  Margaret. 

"  In  their  hearts  they  would  not,  we  may 
be  very  sure.  But  probably  they  would  be 
much  embarrassed  by  our  making  the  propo- 
sition. In  young  people, — in  those  who  are 
in  our  position,  Margaret, — the  world  easily 


191 

forgives  such  departure  from  the  established 
routine.  In  our  parents  the  case  might  not 
be  the  same.  They  might  be  blamed.  No  ; 
the  way  to  act — the  way  in  which  these 
things  are  always  done — is  to  ask  no  permis- 
sion at  all ;  to  do  it — and  then  come  back  to 
be  forgiven  !  " 

"Oh,  Frederick!  Do  you  think  we 
could  venture  on  such  a  course  as  that?  It 
frightens  me  to  think  of  such  a  thing  !  " 

"Dearest!  There  would  be  nothing  to 
alarm  you.  It  would  all  be  very  easy,  very 
simple.  You  eay  that  you  have  confidence 
in  me  ;  do  you  think  that  I  would  lead  you 
into  trouble  or  sorrow?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  oh,  no!  I  have  perfect  confi- 
dence in  you,  Frederick, — in  your  afiection, 
your  sense,  your  courage.  With  you  I  am 
sure  that  I  should  fear  nothing." 

"  If  so,  my  own,  we  may  snap  our  fingers 
at  Slowcome  and  Sligo,  and  name  the  auspi- 
cious day  for  ourselves." 

"  Are  you  really  serious,  Frederick  ?  But 
I  do  not  comprehend  what  it  is  you  would 
propose  to  do.  Tell  me  what  steps  you 
would  think  it  advisable  to  take." 

"  Simply  the  same  steps,  Margaret,  that 
are  usually  taken  by  so  many  others  iu  our 
position  ;  except,  indeed,  that  very  many 
have  to  contend  with  the  difliculty  of  the 
opposition  of  their  families  to  the  match  at 
all ;  whereas  we  shall  have  no  diflSculties  of 
the  sort,  or,  indeed,  of  any  sort.  Sec  now, 
my  love!  If,  in  truth,  you  have  confidence 
enough  in  me  to  be  guided  entirely  by  me  in 
this  matter,  this  is  what  I  should  propose. 
We  will  have  no  getting  out  of  window,  and 
rope-ladders,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
All  such  grands  moyens  arc  for  those  who 
have  to  fight  against  the  opposition  of  par- 
ents and  guardians.  We  have  no  need  of 
any  such.  This  shall  be  our  simple,  com- 
mon-sense programme.  Some  evening — say 
to-morrow  evening — what  do  we  gain  by 
delay? — I  will  have  a  post-chaise  and  the 
best  pair  of  horses  in  Silverton  at  the  little 
door  in  the  garden  wall  that  opens  on  the 
lane,  near  the  Castle  Head  turnpike.  Then, 
after  dinner,  while  the  doctor  is  still  in  the 
dining-room  or  in  his  study,  and  Lady  Sem- 
pronia  is  taking  her  after-dinner  nap  on  the 
sofa,  you  shall  just  quietly  walk  out  into  the 
garden,  come  to  the  little  door  in  the  wall, 
which  I  will  take  care  to  have  open, — I 
know  where  the  gardener  keeps  the  key, — 


192 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


and  there  on  the  other  side  you  find  me  wait- 
ing for  you.  You  step  into  the  carriage,  I 
jump  in  after  you  ;  and  before  anybody  has 
observed  your  absence,  we  are  ten  miles  or  so 
on  our  way  to  Scotland.  That  is  what  / 
would  do,  Margaret;  and  what  we  will  do, 
if  you  have  that  confidence  in  me  you  spoke 
of!" 

"  I  have,  I  have,  Frederick  ;  doubt  it  not. 
I  have  all  confidence !  But — Scotland ! 
That  is  a  long  way  off!  Why  should  we  go 
to  Scotland?" 

"  Because,  my  darling,  that  is  the  place 
where  it  is  easiest  for  us  to  be  married  with- 
out any  delay.  The  law  is  different  in  Scot- 
land. People  can  be  married  there  at  once 
It  is  not,  indeed,  absolutely  necessary  in  our 
case ;  for  we  might  be  married  by  special 
license.  But  there  would  be  more  or  less  of 
delay.  Whereas,  in  Scotland,  we  can  be 
made  indissolubly  man  and -wife  as  soon  as 
ever  our  feet  touch  Scottish  soil." 

"  Is  it  possible  !  Oh,  Frederick,  how  ex- 
traoi'dinary !  If  anybody  but  you  told  me 
80,  I  should  think  they  were  telling  fibs." 

(The  pretty  creature  knew  all  about  a 
Gretna  Green  marriage  as  well  as  any  post- 
boy on  the  last  stage  over  the  border.) 

"  It  is  not  only  possible,  it  is  certain  ;  and 
what  is  more,  very  frequently  done.  Should 
you  be  afraid  to  make  such  a  little  trip  with 
me?" 

"  With  you,  Frederick,  I  should  be  afraid 
of  nothing.  I  would  fly  with  you  to  the  end 
of  the  world, — if  I  had  only  had  my  things 
ready !  How  am  I  to  manage  about  my 
things?  " 

"  What  things,  dearest,  should  you  re- 
quire?" 

"  Oh,  my  trunks, — and  who  is  to  pack 
them? — and  my  toilet  things,  you  know, — 
and — and— Simmons, — you  know?" 

"  Simmons !  what,  the  maid  at  the  Chase? 
Arc  you  mad,  Margaret?  No,  that  would 
never  do  !  There  can  be  no  maid.  We  must 
be  all  in  all  to  ourselves  and  to  each  other. 
Can  you  not  trust  me,  my  own  Margaret?  " 

Frederick  here  got  possession  of  her  hand 
again,  and  pressed  it  against  his  heart,  look- 
ing wistfully  into  her  face,  as  he  spoke,  with 
the  most  intense  expression  of  supplication 
he  could  muster ;  for  he  felt  that  this  was 
the  difficult  point. 

"  Go  without  a  maid,  Frederick !  Oh,  im- 
possible !     How  am  I  to  dress  myself?    How 


am  I  ever  to  put  on  my  orange-blossoms  and 
my  wedding  veil?"  she  said,  disengaging 
her  hand,  and  clasping  it  with  its  fellow,  as 
she  held  them  out  toward  him  in  passionate 
appeal. 

"  My  dearest  girl,  you  do  not  understand 
the  matter  rightly.  There  will  be  no  dress- 
ing for  our  wedding.  You  will  be  married 
directly  you  step  out  of  the  post-chaise,  in 
the  same  clothes  in  which  you  stepped  into 
it,  at  the  garden-door  here.  Instead  of 
orange-blossoms  and  bridal  veils  you  will 
have  panting  post-horses,  and  a  village  black- 
smith for  a  clergyman.  You  will  have  a 
pretty  toilette  de  voyage.  Why  not  the  dress 
you  have  on  ?  I  never  saw  you  look  more 
absolutely  perfection !  " 

' '  It  seems  all  so  strange  ;  and  to  go  away 
with  you,  alone,  to  such  a  distance  !  " 

"Yes,  my  Margaret!  It  needs  perfect 
trust  in  me.     Can  you  not  have  that  trust  ?  " 

"  I  can,  I  will,  Frederick  !  I  put  myself 
and  my  destiny  wholly,  unhesitatingly,  into 
your  hands.  Am  I  not  your  own  ?  I  will 
do  all  that  you  would  wish  me  to  do." 

"  Dearest,  dearest  Margaret !  Then  listen 
to  me.  What  time  do  you  come  out  from 
dinner!  " 

"  Oh,  always  before  six!  When  we  are 
alone.  Aunt  Sempronia  always  goes  into 
the  drawing-room  almost  the  minute  the 
cloth  is  taken  away.  Uncle,  after  a  little 
while,  goes  into  his  study,  where,  to  the  best 
of  my  belief,  he  falls  fast  asleep." 

"  And  when  you  get  into  the  drawing- 
room?"  asked  Frederick. 

"  Oh,  aunt  fidgets  about  a  little,  and 
scolds  if  the  servants  have  made  too  big  a 
fire ;  and  then  settles  herself  on  the  sofa,  and 
tells  me  to  wake  her  when  the  doctor  comes 
in." 

"  And  how  long  is  it  generally  before  he 
does  come  in?  "  asked  Frederick. 

"Oh,  about  an  hour, — sometimes  moi'e; 
never,  I  think,  less  than  that." 

"Excellent — nothing  could  be  better! 
Then,  when  the  old  gentleman  does  come  in 
to  his  tea,  and  no  Margaret  is  there,  it  will 
be  some  time  before  they  guess  that  you  have 
left  the  house  ;  and  when  at  last  they  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  you  are  not  to  be 
found  in  it,  it  will  be  a  long  while  before 
they  make  a  guess  at  the  truth." 

"  Or  I  could  leave  a  little  note  on  the 
drawing-room  table  to  say  that  I  had  a  bad 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


headache,  and  had  gone  to  bed,  but  would 
not  disturb  her  ladyship's  nap.  Then  noth- 
ing would  be  known  of  my  departure  till  ten 
o'clock  the  next  morning." 
.  "  Admirable  !  perfect !  AYhy,  you  little 
darling,  you  were  born  for  a  conspirator. 
Nothing  could  be  better  imagined  !  But  we 
must  be  sure  that  there  is  nobody  coming  to 
dinner.  Is  there  anybody  coming  to-mor- 
row ? ' ' 

"  But  to-morrow  will  not  do,  Frederick  !  " 
said  Margaret,  in  a  different  tone  from  that 
in  which  she  had  been  speaking  hitherto,  a 
simple,  business-like  tone,  which  at  once  con- 
vinced him  that  for  some  reason  the  morrow 
would  not  do. 

"  Wliy,  what  is  it,  dear?"  he  asked,  also 
speaking  in  a  changed  key. 

"  Because  I  am  to  go  up  to  the  Chase  to- 
morrow morning." 

"  Oh,  Margaret,  that  is  very  unfortu- 
nate !  "  said  Frederick,  in  a  genuine  tone  of 
vexation  and  disappointment. 

"  But  it  cannot  be  helped,  Frederick.  It 
is  all  arranged.  But  I  can  return  here  on 
the  following  morning." 

'"  And  will  you  do  so,  my  own  love  ?  May 
I  depend  on  your  doing  so  ?  " 

"  Frederick  !  "  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  fond 
reproach . 

"  And  be  on  your  guard,  dearest !  Take 
care  that  Kate  does  not  worm  your  secret  out 
of  you,  or  make  a  shrewd  guess  at  it." 

"  Kate  make  a  shrewd  guess, — or  worm  a 
secret  out  of  mc!  "  said  Margaret,  in  a  tone 
of  profound  disdain,  which  had  more  of  genu- 
ine feeling  in  it  than  any  words  she  had 
uttered  during  the  whole  of  the  previous  con- 
versation with  her  lover.  "  Why,  Fred,  what 
do  you  take  me  for?  Am  I  quite  a  simple- 
ton? "  she  added,  with  a  toss  of  her  head 
that  showed  she  really  was  indignant  at  the 
imputation. 

"  Anything  but  that,  Margaret,  Heaven 
knows  !  But  it  is  necessary  to  be  careful," 
returned  he,  penitently. 

"  Never  fear  ;  Kate  will  learn  no 'secret  of 
mine  !  " 

"  And  you  will  be  here  on  the  following 
morning,  without  fail?  " 

"I  have  promised  you,  Frederick;  and 
you  may  be  sure  that  I  will  not  fail  you," 
said  she,  giving  him  her  hand,  as  pledging 
her  foith. 

' '  !My  own  darling  !  my  dearest  wife !  How 
13 


193 

can  I  sufTicicntly  thank  you  for  the  sweet 
trust  and  confidence  you  are  placing  in  mc  ? 
— only  by  deserving  it.  Ajid  I  will  deserve 
it.  See  now  !  On  the  evening  of  the  day 
after  to-morrow,  I  will  be  in  the  lane  on  the 
other  side  of  the  garden-door,  with  a  carriage 
and  everythuig  in  readiness,  at  six  o'clock, 
and  will  wait,  with  what  patience  I  can,  till 
you  come.  See,  the  key  of  the  door  is  always 
to  be  found  just  here,"  said  Frederick,  show- 
ing her  a  little  cavity  in  the  old  wall  near 
the  ground  ;  "  the  old  fellow  always  puts  it 
there,  never  dreaming  that  anybody  who 
wanted  it,  might  easily  find  it  there.  Now 
just  let  us  see  whether  the  lock  goes  easily 
enough  for  that  little  hand  to  open  it — gen- 
tly— quietly  !  "  said  he,  as  he  put  the  key 
into  her  hand  ;  the  well-oiled  lock  was 
turned  with  perfect  ease.  "Capital!  that 
will  do.  You  will  remember  where  to  find 
the  key.  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  that  I 
should  not  attempt  to  see  you  on  your  return 
from  the  Chase." 

"  Perhaps  not." 

"  When  do  you  intend  to  be  back?  " 

"Oh,  to  dinner  to-morrow!  I  shall  not 
stay  there.  I  shall  say  that  uncle  made  me 
promise  to  return  to  dinner  without  fail.  It 
is  only  that  Kate  wants  to  have  a  talk  about 
something  or  other.  She  is  such  a  bother ! 
Kate  is  exactly  cut  out  for  an  old  maid,  and 
I  believe  she  will  live  and  die  one." 

"You  don't  think  there  will  be  anybody 
to  dine  here  the  day  after  to-morrow?  " 

"Oh!  It  is  very  unlikely.  We  always 
discuss  such  things  here  ever  so  long  in  ad- 
vance. Oh,  no;  I  think  we  may  be  sure  that 
we  shall  be  all  alone." 

"  Then  I  think  that  we  may  consider  all  as 
settled  ?  The  day  after  to-morrow,  at  six  in 
the  evening." 

"It  is  very  sudden!  Y''ou  will  be  very 
good  to  me,  dearest,  very  indulgent,  and  very 
true  ;  jCest-ce  pas,  mon  Men  airne^  " 

"  I  will,  I  will,  my  beloved  Margaret,  now 
and  ever.  How  can  I  ever  thank  you  enough 
for  all  your  love  and  trust?  Dearest,  be  very 
sure  that  you  shall  not  repent  of  them." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  shall,  Frederick.  So 
now,  if  all  is  definitively  settled,  I  think  we 
had  better  go  in.  It  must  be  nearly  time  for 
the  dressing-bell  to  ring." 

"Adieu,  sweetest !  To  think  that  the  next 
time  we  meet,  it  will  be  to  part  no  more  till 
I  can  call  you  really,  wliolly  mine  !  " 


194 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"  Au  revoir  !  Apres  danain  a  six'heurcs !  " 
whispered  Margaret,  as  he  squeezed  her  hand 
in  parting  at  the  door  of  the  drawing-room , 
from  which  he  escaped  just  as  Lady  Sempro- 
nia  was  rousing  herself  and  thinking  tliat  it 
was  time  to  dress  for  dinner. 

CHAPTER   XXXV. 
ONLT   TILL  TO-MORROW  NIGHT  ! 

The  next  morning,  at  a  rather  earlier  hour 
than  usual, — it  was  just  as  the  canon  was 
leaving  his  house,  to  step  across  the  Close  to 
morning  service  at  the  cathedral, — the  gig 
from  Lindisfarn  came  to  the  door  for  Miss 
Margaret.  But  there  was  no  Mr.  Mat  in  it. 
The  old  groom  who  had  driven  in,  brought  a 
note  from  Kate,  to  say  that  she  had  not  been 
able  to  persuade  Mr.  Mat  to  come  ;  but  that 
she  had  thought  it  better  to  send  the  gig,  as 
Thomas  Tibbs,  with  the  carriage,  would  have 
been  so  much  slower  about  it. 

Margaret  was  quite  as  well  pleased  to  per- 
form the  short  journey  with  the  groom  as 
with  Mr.  Slat.  Indeed,  it  was  felt  by  her 
as  an  escape,  that  she  was  not  condemned  to 
the  latter  penance.  Nevertheless,  she  took 
it  as  an  affront,  and  resented  the  slight  ac- 
cordingly. 

She  did  not  take  anything  with  her;  for 
she  fully  purposed  being  back  again  to  din- 
ner, as  she  told  Lady  Semprouia  when  she 
mentioned  to  her  Kate's  summons. 

Her  original  plan  had  been  to  stay  at  the 
Chase  for  the  night,  and  return  to  the  Close 
the  following  morning,  as  she  had  said  to 
Frederick.  But  a  little  consideration  had 
led  her  to  change  it.  In  the  first  place,  she 
felt  on  reflection  that  it  would  be  very  de- 
sirable to  shorten  as  much  as  possible  the 
talk  which  must  pass  between  her  and  Kate. 
There  could  be  nothing  agreeable  in  it ;  and 
she  had  no  desire  to  sustain  the  part,  which 
she  would  be  obliged  to  play  before  her  sis- 
ter, for  a  greater  number  of  hours  than  was 
absolutely  inevitable.  It  would  be  a  great 
thing  to  escape  the  long  evening  hours,  and 
the  tete-a-tete,  which  it  would  be  impossible 
to  avoid,  in  Kate's  room  after  they  had  re- 
tired for  the  night. 

In  the  second  place,  she  preferred  having 
a  little  longer  time  between  her  return  to  the 
Close  and  the  execution  of  her  momentous 
project.  Fred  had  told  her  that  "no  things " 
would  be  needed.  But  she  could  not  abso- 
lutely subscribe  to  tliat  view  of  tlie  matter. 


There  was  at  least,  her  toilette  de  voyage  to 
be  decided  on, — a  matter  not  to  be  put  off 
to  the  last  minute.  As  a  mere  matter  of 
fatigue,  too,  it  would  be  better  to  start  on 
her  long  journey  after  a  day  of  perfect  rest. 

Then,  again,  she  was  inclined  to  think,  on 
consideration,  that,  despite  the  possible  diffi- 
culty about  stable  arrangements,  she  might 
find  it  easier  to  get  back  the  same  day  than 
on  the  next.  There  would  be  the  excuse  of 
not  having  even  what  was  necessary  for  the 
night ;  there  would  be  the  keeping  her  un- 
cle's dinner  waiting.  She  would  then  prob- 
ably avoid  seeing  her  father,  who  would 
most  likely  be  out,  all  the  time  she  was  at 
Lindisfarn,  and  would  thus  get  rid  of  the 
danger  of  objection  on  his  part. 

So,  taking  all  these  things  into  considera- 
tion, she  had  determined  on  curtailing  her 
visit  to  Lindisfarn  to  the  few  hours  that  she 
could  spend  there  between  the  breakfast  and 
the  dinner  hour  at  the  Close. 

"  Oh,  yes,  dear  !  Be  sure  yoij  come 
back  !  "  Lady  Semprouia  had  said.  "  It 
would  be  cruel  to  leave  me  all  alone,  and 
my  poor  nerves  in  the  state  they  are  !  And 
your  poor  uncle  is  madder  than  ever  about 
this  new  whim  of  his  monogram,  or  what- 
ever it  is,  he  calls  it,  upon  the  churchat 
Chewton  ;  such  a  place,  my  dear  !  if  you 
could  only  see  it !  and  I  am  frightened  to 
death  lest  he  should  insist  upon  printing  it. 
Oh,  you  must  not  leave  me  !  " 

"  I  only  hope,  dear  aunt,  that  there  will 
be  no  difficulty  about  sending  me  back  either 
in  the  carriage  or  with  the  gig." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Margaret,  you  must  come 
back  !  Stay,  perhaps  I  had  better  write  a 
line  to  dear  Kate  ;  or  would  it  be  best  to 
Miss  Immy — only  you  know  " — 

"Oh,  no!  best  to  Kate,  dear  aunt;  if 
you  would  write  a  line  to  Kate,  it  might, 
perhaps,  make  matters  easier." 

So  the  tearful  lady  sat  down  at.  her  little 
desk,  and  fishing  for  a  clean  scrap  of  paper, 
among  a  tumbled  mass  of  bills  of  all  sorts 
and  sizes,  she  wrote  in  the  eminently  lady- 
like hand  of  the  last  century,  in  which  the 
body  of  the  letters  was  scarcely  greater  in 
altitude  than  the  thickness  of  a  line,  while 
the  tops  and  tails  were  of  immoderate  length, 
and  the  lines  very  far  apart,  the  following 
note  : — 

"  ]My  dear  Kate, — Margaret  tells  me  that 
it  is  imperatively  necessary  that  she  should  go 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


up  to  the  Chase  to-day.  It  is  a  sad  trial  to 
me  to  part  with  her.  But,  alas,  what  is  life, 
mine  especially,  hut  trials  !  I  trust,  however, 
that  you  will  send  her  hack  to  mc  this  evening. 
Would  that  1  could  send  for  her  !  I  will  not 
now  go  into  the  sad  detail  of  the  reasons  which 
make  this  iui possible  to  me.  They  are,  alas  ! 
too  well  known  to  you,  my  dear  niece,  and 
to  the  world  in  general,  the  more's  the  pity. 
I  must  trust  to  your  kindness,  therefore,  and 
to  that  of  JMr.  Mat, — for  I  know  that  he  is  the 
Master  of  the  Horse  at  Lindisfarn, — not  to 
disappoint  me  in  this.  Dear  Margaret  will 
explain  to  you  how  totally  unfit  I  am  to  be 
left  alone  with  your  dear  uncle,  especially  at 
the  present  moment.  Indeed,  I  do  not  know 
what  might  be  the  consequences  to  me !  I 
am  grieved  to  hear  that  the  recent  rains  are 
likely  to  cause  very  wide-spread  distress,  and 
perhaps  ruin,  among  the  agricultural  inter- 
ests. But  God's  will  be  done  !  Tell  your 
dear  fiither  so  from  me,  with  my  kind  love. 
I  look  to  ^largarefs  return  by  five  o'clock  ; 
for  you  know  what  your  poor  dear  uncle's 
temper  is  if  the  dinner  is  kept  waiting. 
"  Your  affectionate  aunt, 

.    "  S.  LiNDISFAUX." 

"  I  don't  think  Kate  will  be  so  cruel  as 
not  to  send  you  back  to  me,"  sighed  Lady 
Sempronia,  as  she  handed  this  note  to  Mar- 
garet. 

"  Oh,  no,  dear  aunt!  depend  upon  it,  I 
shall  be  back  by  five  o'clock." 

So  Margaret  got  into  the  gig,  and  was 
driven  in  a  litte  less  than  an  hour  up  to  the 
Chase. 

She  was  in  high  spirits  ;  or  at  least  in  a 
state  of  excitement  which  produced  a  similar 
appearance  ;  and  had  some  difficulty  in  meet- 
ing her  sister  with  the  depression  of  manner 
befitting  the  part  she  had  to  play. 

"Oh,  ^Margaret  dear  !  I  am  so  glad  to 
have  you  at  home  again.  I  have  so  much  to 
talk  to  you  of,"  said  Kate,  as  she  met  her  at 
the  door. 

"  xVnd  we  have  not  very  much  time  to  say 
it  in,  Kate  ;  for  I  must  be  back  again  in  the 
Close  by  five  o'clock." 

"  Back  again  to-night?  " 

"  Yes.  It  is  impossible  to  avoid  it.  Sec, 
hei'c  is  a  note  for  you  from  my  aunt.  Poor 
soul,  she  is  in  a  very  low  way  !  I  cannot 
leave  her.  You  will  sec  what  she  says.  Be- 
sides, I  have  brought  home  none  of  my 
things." 

"  But,  my  dear  Margaret,  how  arc  you  to 
get  back  again  to   Silverton   this   evening? 


195 


You  know  what  a  bother  there  always  in 
with  Tibbs." 

"  That  is  why  I  spoke  about  it  the  first 
thing,  Kate.  It  must  be  managed  somehow. 
I  suppose  I  am  not  in  Mr.  Mat's  good  books, 
by  his  not  condescending  to  come  for  me  this 
morning.  But  you  can  make  him  do  any- 
thing you  like." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  impossible  to  disappoint 
my  aunt,"  said  Kate,  with  a  sigh,  as  she  fin- 
ished reading  her  aunt's  letter.  "  But  what 
is  it  she  alludes  to  as  her  particular  sorrow 
at  this  time  more  than  usual?  " 

"  Oh,  you  know  my  aunt !  She  is  in  a 
great  trouble,  just  at  present,  for  fear  my 
uncle  should  take  it  into  his  head  to  print  a 
new  paper  he  has  been  writing  all  about  an 
old  church  at  his  living  in  a  place  they  call 
Chewton, — a  most  horrid,  desolate  place,  aunt 
says,  out  in  the  moor.  The  paper  is  to  bo 
read  at  the  meeting  of  the  eccle — eceloy — 
whatever  it  is  they  call  themselves,  next 
month  ;  and  as  uncle  is  very  particularly 
proud  of  it,  she  is  in  great  fear  of  the  prob- 
able consequences.  And  indeed,  I  may  per- 
haps be  of  some  use  ;  for  I  have  some  little 
influence  over  Uncle  Theophilus." 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  must  go,"  sighed 
Kate  ;  "  and  I  will  see  what  can  be  done 
about  sending  you.  Perhaps  the  old  pony 
could  be  put  in  the  gig,  just  to  take  you  to 
Silverton.  Come  !  let  us  go  up  to  my  room. 
Noll  is  out  with  the  dogs." 

"  But  had  we  not  better  settle  first  about 
the  gig?"  urged  Margaret,  who  was  by  no 
means  willing  to  allow  any  amount  of  doubt 
to  rest  upon  the  execution  of  her  pro- 
gramme. 

"  Very  well  !  If  you  will  go  up-stairs,  and 
take  your  hat  off,  I  will  go  and  see  about  it, 
and  come  to  you  in  my  room." 

Margaret  ran  quickly  up  the  stairs,  and 
into  her  sister's  room.  There  her  first  care 
was  not  to  take  off  her  hat,  but  to  cast  a 
sharp,  searching  glance  at  Kate's  table,  to  see 
if  any  note  or  letter  had  been  left  there,  ac- 
cording to  Kate's  careless  habits  in  such  mat- 
ters, which  might,  even  by  the  outside  of  it, 
perhaps,  give  her  some  hint  of  the  position  of 
matters  with  her  sister.  But  there  was  noth- 
ing on  the  table, — not  even  the  usual  litter 
of  Kate's  manifold  ordinary  occupations. 
The  little  desk,  instead  of  standing  open,  waa 
shut  up  ;  and  there  was  not  so  much  as  a 
hook  to  be  seen  lying  about.     All  the  draw- 


196  LINDISFARN    CHASE. 

ing  things  at  the  other  small  table  were  piled  Kate  often  sighed  as  she  remembered  the 
into  a  little  heap  in  the  middle  of  it,  and  happy,  careless  days,  when  she  had  so  nick- 
had  evidently  not  been  touched  for  days.  named  her  best  and  dearest  friend,  and 
If  any  more  intelligently  sympathizing  eye  thought  how  infinitely  greater  was  her  need 
than  her  sister's  had  looked  in  Kate's  face,  of  such  a  protectress  than  she  had  ever 
the  looker  would  not  have  failed  to  be  struck   dreamed  it  could  be. 

by  evidence  of  the  cessation  of  all  the  ordi-  She  joined  Margaret  in  a  few  minutes  in 
nary  sources  of  interest  and  occupation,  as  her  room,  going  up  the  stairs  much  more 
legible  there  as  in  the  condition  of  her  room,    slowly  than  she  had  done. 

And  there  were  not  wanting  such  sympa-  ,  "I  have  arranged  for  you  to  have  the  gig 
thizing  eyes  at  Lindisfarn.  It  was  plain  for  your  return,"  she  said,  sitting  down 
enough  to  more  than  one  loving  observer  that  wearily  beside  her  sister.  "  Mr.  Mat  made 
Kate  had  been  stricken  somehow  or  other,  no  diflBculty.  The  gig  will  be  at  the  door  at 
whether  in  heart  or  merely  in  body,  and  mat-    half-past  three." 

ters  were  out  of  joint  at  the  Chase  in  conse-  j  "  Mr.  Mat  makes  less  difficulty  about  send- 
quence.  Mr.  Mat  was  miserable,  and  cross  ing  me  away  from  Lindisfarn  than  about 
to  every  one  but  the  object  of  his  trouble,  bringing  me  back  to  it.  Cela  s^entend!  I 
He  would  neglect  his  dinner,  and  sit  looking  dare  say  there  is  no  love  lost  between  us." 
wistfully  at  Kate,  as  she  wearily  went  through  "Oh,  Margaret!  I  am  sure  that  Mr. 
the  daily  ceremony,  and  when  she  and  Miss  Mat  does  not  feel  otherwise  than  kindly  tow- 
Immy  had  left  the  room,  would  say  to  the   ard  you." 

squire, —  i      "It  matters  very  little  to  me  how  he  feels, 

"  The  lass  is  not  right,  squire  !  She  is  not  that  is  one  good  thing!  But  now,  Kate, 
like  herself,  no  more  than  I  am  like  the  what  was  your  object  in  making  me  come  up 
Bishop  of  Silverton  !     But  as  for  telling  me   here?  " 

that  she  is  thinking  anything  about  that  fel-  :  "  Surely,  you  must  know,  Margaret.  Ju- 
low  Falconer — they  may  tell  that  to  the  ma-  ;  lian  has  recovered  ;  he  has  left  England, 
rines  !  I've  known  the  lass  from  her  cradle  We  are  no  longer  bound  by  any  promise  of 
up.  It's  as  damned  a  pack  of  nonsense, '  secrecy  ;  and  it  is  above  all  things  necessary 
squire  " —  i  that  the  error  as  to  his  supposed  death  should 

And  Mr.  Mat's  black  eye  grew  moist  under  ;  be  corrected  with  as  little  delay  as  possible. 

But  I  was  unwilling  to  take  any  step  in  the 
matter  without  first  speaking  with  you." 

"  I  suppose  it  will  be  necessary  that  the 
fact  should  be  known,"  replied  Margaret; 
"  but  do  not  you  think  that  it  would  be  more 
proper  to  leave  it  to  him  to  make  the  an- 
nouncement himself?  You  remember  that 
he  told  you  he  purposed  doing  so." 

"  Yes  ;  but  what  I  cannot  bear  is  that  we 


say 


its  shaggy  black  brow  as  he  spoke. 

"  God  grant  it  may  be  as  you 
Bighed  the  squire  ;  "  anything  better   than 
that." 

ISIiss  Immy,  for  her  part,  threatened  Kate 
with  Dr.  Blakistry.  As  yet  Kate  had,  not 
without  difficulty,  fought  off  this  strong  meas- 
ure. But  Miss  Immy  was  getting  really  un- 
easy about  her  ;  and  it  was  clear  that,  unless 
she    could    manage   to   "look  like   herself  i  should  know  it  and  keep  the  knowledge  to 


again,"  she  would  have  to  submit  to  a  pro- 
fessional visit  from  the  doctor  before  long. 

And  the  alternative  was  quite  out  of  Kate's 
power.  She  could  not  look  like  herself 
again  ;  for  she  felt  very  unlike  that  former 
self. 

And,   worst  of   all,  Lady  Earnleigh   was 


ourselves.     I  cannot  bear  the  burden  of  the 
secret  any  longer,  Margaret." 

"  I  do  not  see  that  the  burden  has  been  a 
very  heavy  one  to  you,  Kate.  To  me  it  has 
been  difi'erent.  In  the  circumstances  in 
which  I  have  been  placed,  it  has  been  very 
painful  to  me  to  be  obliged  to  keep  such  a  i 


still   absent.      Most   unfortunately   she  had  i  cret  to  myself.     Happily,  I  know  well  that 
been  detained,  much  beyond  the  time  she    the  knowledge  of  it  would  have  occasioned 


had  at  first  intended,  by  the  serious  illness 
of  her  daughter-in-law.  That  lady  was  now, 
however,  much  better  ;  and  there  was  a  pros- 
pect of  the  "  fairy  godmother's"  return  be- 
fore long. 


no  difference  in  the  conduct  of  my  future  hus- 
band. Nevertheless,  you  can  understand,  I 
suppose,  that  it  would  be  unpleasant  to  mo 
to  have  to  confess  that  I  knew  the  real  state 
of  thp  case,  so  early  as  for  my  misfortune  I 


LINDISFARN    CHASE 


197 


did,  in  consequence  of  your  imprudent  visit 
to  that  smuggler  man's  cottage." 

"  I  will  not  say  anything  about  that,  Mar- 
garet. I  thought  it  was  riglit  under  the 
circumstances  to  go  there,  and  I  went.  Now 
it  would'bc  infinitely  more  agreeable  to  me — 
it  would  be  a  greater  consolation  and  comfort 
to  me  than  you  can  imagine — if  I  could  not 
only  let  the  fact  of  Julian's  existence  be 
known  at  once,  but  also  let  it  be  understood 
that  I  knew  it  at  the  time  I  did  know  it. 
You  cannot  guess  how  much  I  would  give 
to  do  this.  Nevertheless  I  have  made  up 
my  mind  to  abstain  from  doing  it,  for  your 
sake  ;  for  I  can  fully  feel  how  dreadful,  how 
intolerable,  it  would  be  to  3'ou,  that  it  should 
be  known  that  you  had  accepted  an  offer  of 
marriage  without  saying  a  word  about  it,  or 
in  any  way  intimating  that  your  position 
was  a  vei'y  different  one  firom  what  it  was 
supposed  to  be." 

"  I  could  not  help  myself,  as  I  have  told 
you  before,"  said  Margaret,  sullenly. 

"  It  was  very  unfortunate,"  sighed  Kate  ; 
"  but  I  have  told  you  that  I  have  made  up 
my  mind  not  to  say  anything  about  the  date 
at  which  this  important  secret  reached  our 
knowledge.  You  must  feel,  however,  dear 
Margaret,  that  the  time  has  come  when  it  is 
absolutely  necessary  to  break  off  this  engage- 
ment, and" — 

"  Break  off! — will  nothing  make  you  be- 
lieve, Kate,  that  all  people  are  not  so  sordid 
in  their  views  as  you  imagine  them?"  in- 
terrupted Margaret,  while  her  cheek  flushed 
up,  and  her  eyes  flashed  fire.  "  It  is  very 
singular,  sister,  how  particularly  anxious  you 
are  that  the  engagement  between  me  and 
Fred  should  be  broken  off;  but  you  may 
as  well  give  it  up  as  a  bad  job.  Make 
your  mind  up  to  it,  once  for  all,  that  it 
wont  and  can't  be  broken  off." 

Kate  looked  into  her  sister's  gleaming,  an- 
gry eyes,  with  a  quiet  glance  of  mute  ap- 
peal, and  of  sorrow  rather  than  reproach, 
as  she  said, — 

"  Can  you  not  believe,  Margaret,  that  your 
happiness  and  welfare  are  all  I  wish  for  or 
care  about  in  this  matter  ?  " 

"  It  don't  seem  like  it  " — 

"  And  that  when  I  speak  of  breaking  off  the 
engagement  you  have  made,  I  mean  merely 
breaking  that  which  was  entered  into  in  ig- 
norance of  the  truth,  to  be  replaced,  if  the 
parties  to  it  wish  to  do  so,  by  a  fresh   en- 


gagement made  with  full  knowledge  of  the 
truth?  You  can't  doubt  that  it  is  abso-- 
lutely  necessary  that  no  time  should  be  lost 
in  telling  Mr.  Falconer  the  truth ;  and  it 
was  about  this  that  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you 
to-day.'' 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  sec  why  you  should 
take  so  much  trouble  to  meddle  with  my  af- 
fairs !  I  suppose  I  am  the  proper  person  to 
tell  Mr.  Falconer,  as  you  call  him ;  and  I 
presume  I  may  be  left  to  do  so  in  my  own 
way,  and  at  my  own  time." 

"But  that  is  just  the  point,  Mai'garct. 
Certainly  you  are  the  person  who  ought  to 
tell  him.  He  ought  most  unquestionably 
to  hear  it  from  no  one  but  yourself.  But 
the  time — that  is  the  question.  At  your 
own  time,  you  say.  When  is  that  time, 
Margaret?  That  is  what.  I  want  to  settle 
with  you." 

"  Now  I  am  not  going  to  be  dictated  to, 
as  if  I  were  a  school-girl  and  you  my  mis- 
tress, Kate.  Remember  that  you  are  not 
even  my  elder  sister,  though  you  seem 
strangely  inclined  to  take  the  tone  of  one. 
I  have  just  as  good  a  right  to  preach  to  you 
as  vou  to  me,  remember !  I  told  you  from 
the  beginning  fairly  and  honestly,  that  my 
views  and  ideas  differed  from  yours  in  this 
matter,  and  that  I  intended  to  be  guided  in 
it  by  my  own,  and  not  by  yours.  That  is 
still  my  intention,  I  beg  you  to  understand. 
I  shall  choose  my  time  for  telling  my  future 
husband  the  whole  of  this  strange  improba- 
ble story,  according  to  my  own  judgment 
and  convenience.  I  presume  you  will  not 
think  fit  to  take  it  upon  yourself  to  meddle 
between  us." 

"  Most  certainly,  Margaret,  I  shall  not 
take  it  upon  myself  to  say  anything  upon 
the  subject  to  Mr.  Falconer,  if  you  mean  that. 
But  I  must  speak  to  those  who  ought  neces- 
sarily to  bo  made  acquainted  with  the  truth 
in  the  first  instance.  I  must  tell  my  father 
and  my  Uncle  Theophilus.  And  it  is  this 
that  I  was  unwilling  to  do,  without  having 
first  spoken  to  you,  on  purpose  that  you 
might  have  the  opportunity  of  yourself  speak- 
ing to  Mr.  Falconer  before  the  facts  reach 
him  from  any  one  else.  You  know  my  fa- 
ther. Do  you  think  that  he  would  suffer 
any  uncertainty  to  remain  on  the  subject  in 
the  mind  of  anybody  for  an  hour  after  he  had 
heard  the  truth?  You  know  my  uncle.  Do 
you  think  he  is  likely  to  keep  it  secret? 


198 


You  know  what  Silverton  is.  Do  you  think 
anybody  in  all  the  place  is  likely  to  remain 
in  ignorance  of  the  focts  four-and-twenty 
hours  after  I  have  told  them  to  papa  ?  And 
do  you  see  now  that  I  had  reason  enough 
to  make  a  point  of  your  coming  up  here  to- 
day." 

Margaret  bit  her  lips  till  they  were  white, 
and  remained  silent  for  a  minute  or  two. 

"  And  when  do  you  mean  to  make  tliis 
communication  to  papa?"  she  then  asked, 
keeping  her  eyes  fixed,  as  she  spoke,  on  the 
floor. 

"  I  should  have  done  it  long  ago  if  it  had 
not  been  for  this  unhappy  entanglement  of 
yours." 

Margaret  raised  her  eyes  to  her  sister's 
face  for  an  instant,  and  the  forked  lightning 
shot  forth  dangerously. 

"  It  was  only  to  give  you  time,"  contin- 
ued Kate,  with  increased  and  almost  tearful 
earnestness,  "  that  I  have  abstained  thus 
long.  I  can  abstain  no  longer  !  The  weight 
of  this  secret  seems  as  if  it  were  crushing  my 
heart.  I  must  tell  it.  But  I  would  fain 
that  you  told  Mr,  Falconer  first, — or  at  least 
as  soon." 

"  You  are  very  peremptory,  Kate  !  You 
have  got  the  whip  hand  of  me,  and  you  are 
determined  to  use  it  cruelly, — cruelly  !  " 

"  Oh,  Margaret,  Margaret !  "  sobbed  Kate. 

"Yes,  cruelly!"  continued  her  sister, 
speaking  with  extreme  bitterness.  "It  is 
your  turn  now  !  And  I  am  in  your  power — 
to  a  certain  degree — to  a  certain  degree. 
Well  !  what  time  do  you  condescend  to 
assign  to  me  in  your  mercy  ?  " 

"  You  are  going  back  to  Silverton  this 
evening;  it  is  so  far  convenient.  I  thought 
that  it  would  have  been  necessary  to  send 
for  him  here.  As  it  is,  it  will  be  easier. 
You  will,  in  all  probability,  see  him  this 
evening." 

"  You  find  it  very  easy  to  settle  it  all  your 
•way.  In  all  probability  I  shall  do  nothing 
of  the  kind.  I  have  no  reason  to  think  that 
he  will  come  to  my  uncle's  this  evening." 

"  It  would  be  very  easy  to  send  a  word 
across  the  Close,  requesting  him  to  do  so." 

"Kate!  what  do  you  take  me  for?  If 
you  have  been  brought  up  to  do  that  sort  of 
thing,  I,  for  my  part,  have  not,  and  flatter 
myself  that  I  know  what  convcnance  requires 
rather  better  than  to  take  such  a  step." 

"  I  can  see  no  objection  to  it  under  the 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


circumstances,  and  for  the  purpose  we  ara 
talking  about,  I  confess,  Margaret,"  replied 
Kate,  with  a  deep  sigh.  "  What  would  you 
propose  doing  yourself?  " 

"  If  you  will  promise  me  not  to  say  any 
word  till  to-morrow  evening,"  replied  Mar- 
garet, after  a  few  moments  of  deep  consider- 
ation, "  I  will  promise  you  to  tell  Frederick 
the  first  time  I  do  see  him.  I  think  it  very 
likely  that  I  may  see  him  in  the  course  of 
to-morrow, — almost  certain.  I  will  be  con- 
tent if  you  will  give  me  only  till  to-morrow 
evening.  You  may  tell  papa,  and  all  Silver- 
ton,  too,  if  you  like,  after  dinner  to-morrow. 
Will  that  do?"  said  Margaret,  inwardly 
congratulating  herself  on  the  admirable  good 
fortune  which  had  prompted  Frederick  to 
propose  the  scheme  he  had,  and  to  fix  the 
execution  of  it  for  such  an  early  day. 
What  on  earth  would  have  become  of  her, 
but  for  this  happy  piece  of  good  fortune ! 
As  it  was,  the  fatal  facts  would  not  be 
known  till  they  were  safe  oS"  on  their  way 
to  Scotland  ;  and  when  they  came  back  mar- 
ried, Frederick  would  learn  it  as  a  bit  of 
news  that  had  reached  Silverton  in  the  in- 
terval of  their  absence. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Kate,  slowly  and  re- 
luctantly ;  "let  it  be  so,  since  you  are  un- 
willing to  release  me  sooner.  Let  it  remain 
settled  that  1  tell  papa  the  whole  of  the 
facts  to-morrow  evening  after  dinner  ; — papa 
and  Mr.  Mat,  mind,  Margaret! — there  must 
be  no  more  secrets  ! — and  Mr.  Mat  is  likely 
enough,  mind,  to  have  out  the  gig  and  drive 
ofl"  to  Silverton  that  same  evening,  to  tell 
Uncle  Theophilus  that  his  son  is  still  liv- 
ing." 

"No!  you  must  give  me  the  whole  even- 
ing," exclaimed  Margaret,  remembering  that 
Mr.  Mat's  untimely  arrival  in  the  Close 
might  be  the  means  of  prematurely  discover- 
ing her  absence  from  her  uncle's  house ; — 
"  I  bargain  for  the  whole  evening.  Who 
knows  at  what  time  I  may  see  Frederick? 
He  often  comes  in  late.  If  you  wish  to  be 
of  any  service  to  me,  Kate,  you  must  give 
me  the  whole  evening.  You  can  tell  papa 
the  first  thing  the  next  morning.  That  can 
make  no  difierence,  you  know,  Kate.  Let  it 
be  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  the  day 
after  to-morrow.  And  then  let  Mr.  Mat 
have  the  satisfaction  of  telling  the  world  of 
our  ruin  as  soon  as  he  likes.  I  will  find  the 
means  of  doing  my  part  before  that  time. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


You  pledge  yourself,  then,  Kate,  to  say 
nothing  till  the  morning  of  the  day  after  to- 
morrow? " 

"  So  he  it,  then,  Margaret.  I  promise 
you  that  1  will  keep  the  secret  till  that  time. 
Then  I  shall,  without  fail,  tell  papa ;  and  I 
think  it  more  likely  than  not,  tliat  IMr.  Mat 
will  tell  my  uncle  within  an  hour  after- 
ward.*' 

"  Let  him  do  his  worst!  "  said  Margaret, 
bitterly,  but  yet  triumphantly. 

"Oh,  Margaret,  I  wish  you  could  think 
that  we  all  have  but  one  heart  and  one  intei-- 
est  in  this  sad  matter.  You  may  trust  me  I 
know  what  I  am  talking  about,  when  I  tell 
you  that  not  a  soul  in  this  house  or  in  Sil- 
verton  will  feel  our  misfortune  more  acutely 
than  poor  Mr.  Mat." 

*'  Well !  it  don't  much  matter.  There  is 
small  consolation  in  his  caring  about  it, 
whether  he  does  or  not;  and  now,  I  sup- 
pose, our  business  is  settled." 

"Yes,"  said  Kate,  sadly;  "will  you 
come  and  see  Miss  Immy  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  must  before  I  go  back  ;  it  is 
a  great  bore.  But  I  want  to  go  into  my 
own  room  first,"  answered  Margaret,  whose 
mind  was  busy  with  the  consideration 
whether  there  might  oM  be  certain  small 
articles  at  the  ChaiJC.  which  it  might  be 
desirable  for  her  to  take  with  her  in  her 
flight  to  Scotland. 

Kate  accompanied  her  sister  into  the  ad- 
joining room,  and  Margaret  had  some  diffi- 
culty in  making  her  comprehend  that  she 
wished  to  be  there  alone.  She  succeeded  at 
last,  and  Kate  left  her,  thinking  that  she 
wished  to  commune  with  herself  on  the  ter- 
ribly painful  task  which  lay  before  her. 

Margaret  hastily  bolted  the  door  behind 
her,  and  did  not  come  out  of  her  room  till 
it  wanted  only  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  the 
time  the  gig  was  ordered  for  her  return  to 
Silver  ton. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 
THE  TWO  SIDES   OP  THE  WALL. 

Margaret  returned  to  her  dinner  at  her 
uncle's,  in  the  Close,  in  good  time.  She 
was  still  in  high  spirits,  or,  at  least,  in  that 
state  of  nervous  excitement,  which,  in  some 
persons,  so  closely  resembles  them.  She 
was,  at  all  events,  well  contented  with  the 
result  of  her  visit  to  the  Chase  ;    and  the 


199 

so  desperately  playing,  seemed  definitively  to 
be  at  last  in  her  own  hands. 

When  slie  had  supposed  herself,  as  all  the 
rest  of  the  Sillshire  world  supposed  lier, 
to  be  an  heiress  to  landed  property  to  the 
amount  of  two  thousand  a  year,  she  had  not 
been  very  particularly  anxious  or  eager  about 
Frederick  Falconer's  proposal.  The  match 
seemed  a  very  fair  one  in  a  prudential  point 
of  view,  and  the  gentleman  was  by  no  means 
disagreeable  to  her.  "  She  had  never  seen 
anybody  she  liked  better,"  as  the  classical 
phrase  runs  upon  such  occasions  ;  but  Mar- 
garet had  been  far  too  well  brought  up,  and 
had  much  too  strong  a  feeling  of  what  she 
owed  to  herself  and  to  the  proprieties  of 
maidenly  delicacy,  to  be  in  any  danger  of 
breaking  her  pure  and  gentle  heart  for  any 
son  of  Adam.  She  was  quite  contented  to 
do  her  little  bit  of  flirting,  and  trot  out  her 
pretty  little  airs  and  graces,  and  show  off 
her  certainly  not  little  attractions,  all  with- 
in the  most  rigorous  bounds  of  the  strictest 
reading  of  the  code  of  the  convenances,  and 
leave  the  result  to  work  itself  out  as  Prov- 
idence and  the  gentleman  might  decree.  But 
all  this  was  suddenly  and  tremendously 
changed  by  that  terrible  communication  from 
her  sister.  Then  it  became  absolutely  ne- 
cessary that  this  chance  should  be  seized  on, 
and  that  promptly.  It  was  most  desperately 
a  case  of  now  or  never  with  her.  Any  sin 
against  those  convenances,  which  assiduous 
drilling  and  the  social  atmosphere  in  which 
she  had  lived  had  made  a  second  nature  to 
lier,  was  extremely  repugnant  to  all  Mar- 
garet's feelings.  If  the  lex  non  scripia  pre- 
scribed that  at  any  given  juncture  of  her  girl- 
hood life,  it  vras  permissible  for  her  to  allow 
a  creature  of  the  other  sex  to  squeeze  her  lit- 
tle finger,  "  all  the  best  and  most  beautiful 
feelings  of  her  nature  "  would  have  been  out- 
raged, if  any  man  should  have  dared  to  make 
the  penultimate  digit  participate  in  the  pres- 
sure. 

Still,  all  the  little  outlook  into  the  world 
around  her,  which  it  had  been  possible  for 
her  to  obtain,  convinced  her  that  the  sacred 
code  of  Ics  convenances  was  made  and  provid- 
ed for  the  guidance  of  Ics  jcuncs  personnes 
of  a  certain  standing  in  the  social  world, — a 
position  from  which  she  was — alas,  and  alas  ! 
— suddenly  and  most  cruelly  hurled.  Quite 
other  maxims  and  rules  were  needed  for  the 


game  she  had  been,  for  the  last  month  past,  I  being  which  she  had  become, — an  adventur- 


200 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


ess.  Yes,  not  being  a  young  person  with  ex- 
pectations, she  was  an  adventuress.  It  was 
useless,  and  mere  folly,  to  blink  the  fact,  or 
mince  the  phrase.  She  was  an  adventuress  ; 
and  however  painful  it  might  be  to  one  not 
"  to  the  manner  born,"  it  behooved  her  to  act 
as  such.  She  had  accepted  the  position  then 
en  maitresse  fcmme,  and  vigorously  set  about 


that  that  would  have  been  a  vain  hope. 
What  a  blessing  was  the  foolish  impatience, 
which  would  not  let  that  fond  fellow  Fred- 
erick wait  for  his  happiness  any  longer  ! 

These  were  the  meditations  which  occupied 
Margaret's  mind  during  several  of  the  hours 
of  that  last  night  in  her  uncle's  house.  The 
next  morning,  at  bi-cakfast,  a  new  source  of 


acting  as  the  exigencies  of  the  part  demand-  |  anxiety  arose.     As   the  doctor  and  his  wife 
ed  of  her.  and  niece  wei-e  sitting  at  their  morning  meal, 

It  had  not  been  a  pleasant  thing  to  live  i  the  doctor  announced  his  intention  of  pay- 
through  the  past  month,  with  the   horrible  {  ing  a  visit,  that  day,  to  his  living  of  Chewton 


sword  of  ignominious  failure  suspended  over 
her  head  by  a  thread  all  the  time.  Very 
much  otherwise.  But  now  her  boldness  and 
her  ability  seemed  about  to  be  rewarded.  At 
last  she  was  in  sight  of  port,  and  to  all  appear- 
ance safe.  And  she  did  feel  that  she  deserved 
some  applause  for  the  manner  in  which  she 
had  steered  her  bark,  in  a  sea  of  no  ordinary 
danger  and  difficulty. 

Not  that  the  future  was  all  smooth  water. 
Far  from  it.  Margaret  indulged  herself  in 
no  such  weak  illusion.  Her  Frederick  would 
be  grievously  disappointed,  doubtless,  when 
the  first  news  that  met  him,  on  bringing  his 
wife  back  to  his  native  town,  would  be  that 
he  had  married  a  beggar.  She  had  a  very 
strong  conviction  that  her  Frederick  was 
about  the  last  man  in  the  world,  to  commit 
such  a  folly  and  indiscretion.  And  Margaret 
was  by  no  means  inclined  to  think  the  less 
well  of  him  on  that  account.  No  doubt  he 
would  be  greatly  disappointed,  —  thunder- 
struck !  No  doubt  there  would  be  unpleas- 
antness. What  else  could  be  looked  for? 
Was  not  all  this  miserable  business  calculat- 
ed to  produce  unpleasantness  of  all  kinds? 
Still,  she  would  be  a  wife  ;  and  she  flattered 
herself  that  she  should  know  how  to  use 
that  vantage-ground  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
make  the  position  not  too  intolerable  a  one 
foi-  her. 


in  the  moor. 

"It  is  absolutely  necessary,  my  dear, 
though  in  truth  it  is  a  very  great  trouble. 
But  in  the  interests  of  science,  you  know,  I 
never  spare  myself." 

"  Nor  others.  Dr.  Lindisfarn  !  "  said  Lady 
Sempronia. 

"  My  dear,  I  am  sorry  to  inconvenience 
you  in  any  way,  though  I  do  not  see  how  it 
should  inconvenience  you.  It  is  indis]>ensa- 
bly  necessary  that  I  should  verify  the  accuracy 
of  certain  statements  and  descriptions.  I  am 
come  to  a  point  at  which  I  cannot  get  on 
without  another  personal  inspection  of  the 
buildings  and  localities.  Heaven  knows  I 
have  no  liking  for  the  job  personally.  But 
when  the  accuracy  and  completeness  of  the 
work,  on  which  so  much  depends,  are  con- 
cerned, I  cannot  hesitate.  I  was  going  to 
mention  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  get  home 
to  dinner.  If  I  could  have  gone  early  this 
morning,  I  might  have  done  so.  But  I 
wished  to  be  in  my  place  at  the  morning  ser- 
vice.    I  shall  start  directly  afterward." 

"You  know  best.  Dr.  Lindisfarn!  "  said 
his  long-suffering  wife,  with  a  resigned 
sigh. 

"  We  will  not  have  the  bore  of  a  regular 
dinner  to-day,  my  dear,"  said  she  to  Mar- 
garet, as  soon  as  the  doctor  had  left  the  break- 
fast-room ;  "  we  will  have  a  cutlet  or  some- 
It  was  no  use  thinking  of  that,  however,    thing  at  luncheon,  and  then  we  shall  enjoy 
now  !      Sufficient    for  the  day  was  the  evil    our  toast  and  tea." 

and  the  work  thereof.  What  she  had  now  It  was  Lady  Sempronia 'e  thrifty  habit  to 
to  do  was  to  step  boldly  forwai-d  on  the  path  !  make  the  absence  of  her  lord  and  master  at 
toward  her  object.  Fate  itself  seemed  help-  i  least  so  far  an  advantage  as  to  save  a  dinner 
ing  her.     What,  what  should  she  have  done,    by  it. 

had  not  the  delays  of  the  lawyers  thus  hap  |  But  then  it  occurred  to  Margaret  that  if 
pily  tii'ed  out  Frederick's  patience  !  She  had  !  the  ordinary  routine  of  the  day  were  thus 
been  living  in  the  hope  of  inducing  Kate  to  j  altered,  her  aunt's  after-dinner  nap  would 
keep  the  fatal  secret  a  little  longer !  It  \  probably  share  the  fate  of  the  dinner,  or  at 
seemed,  however,  to  judge  by  her  sister's  I  least  be  pushed  out  of  its  usual  place  in  the 
words  and  manner,  in  this  last  interview,    day's  programme.     And  if  so,  it  might  very 


well  happen  that  it  would  be  impossible  for 
her  to  escape  from  Lady  Sempronia  at  the 
right  moment.  Usually  on  such  occasions 
as  the  present,  the  tea,  thus  promoted  to  the 
position  of  a  meal,  was  served  at  seven 
o'clock.  And  it  seemed  likely  that  at  six, 
the  fateful  hour  fixed  for  Margaret's  escape, 
her  gently  fretful  ladyship  would  be  awake 
and  in  the  drawing-room  waiting  for  the 
repast  which  such  ladies  love,  and  expecting 
her  niece  to  keep  her  company. 

During  the  whole  foi-enoon  Margaret  was 
in  a  state  of  great  anxiety,  and  was  eagerly 
debating  within  herself  the  expediency  of 
despatching  Parsons  with  a  note  to  Frederick 
informing  him  of  the  state  of  the  case,  and 
of  the  probable  necessity  of  modifying  their 
plans  to  meet  the  new  circumstances. 

It  was  past  twelve  o'clock,  and  she  had 
just  made  up  her  mind  that  she  would  do 
this  immediately  after  luncheon,  when  once 
again  fortune  stood  her  friend,  and  made  any 
such  step  unnecessary.  She  was  in  her  own 
room  nervously  looking  over  for  the  twentieth 
time  every  article  of  the  costume  she  intended 
to  travel  in,  when  she  was  startled  by  a  little 
tap  at  her  door.  Hurriedly  shutting  the 
drawers  in  which  she  had  laid  out  most  of 
these  in  readiness,  she  told  the  applicant  to 
come  in.  It  was  Lady  Sempronia's  maid, 
with, — 

"  Please,  Miss  Margaret,  my  lady  bade  me 
say  that  she  is  took  so  bad  with  her  nerves 
that  she  will  not  be  able  to  come  down  to 
luncheon.  She  hopes  you  will  excuse  her, 
and  she  would  be  glad  to  speak  to  you." 

Margaret  found  her  aunt  in  bed.  The 
prominence  with  which  the  dangers  to  be 
feared  from  the  growing  importance  of  the 
doctor's  monograph  on  Chewton  Church  had 
been  brought  before  her  prescient  mind  had, 
as  usual,  proved  too  great  a  trial  for  her 
enfeebled  nervous  system.  She  had,  she  de- 
clared, a  racking  headache, — feared  she  should 
become  hysterical, — felt  that  her  only  chance 
was  to  keep  herself  absolutely  quiet, — and 
should  not  leave  her  bed  any  more  that  day, 
even  if  she  were  able  to  do  so  on  the  mor- 
row. 

It  was  difficult  for  Margaret  to  keep  the 
decently  sorrowful  face  of  sympathy  which 
this  communication  required,  so  great  a  relief 
was  it  to  her.  Was  it  possible  for  anything 
to  be  better  ?  Fortune  herself  seemed  to 
have  undertaken  the  task  of  taking;  all  diffi- 


NDISFARN    CHASE.  201 

culties  out  of  the  way,  and  leaving  the  coast 
clear  for  her  ! 

The  remainder  of  the  day  passed  very 
slowly  with  Margaret,  but  not  altogether 
unhappily.  She  was  nervous  and  excited, 
but  full  of  liope  and  confidence.  Twice  she 
walked  round  t!ie  garden,  and  glanced  sharply 
at  the  cavity  in  the  wall  near  the  little  door 
into  the  lane,  to  satisfy  herself  that  the  key 
was  there.  Slie  longed  to  take  it  up,  and 
try  it  in  the  lock,  but  refrained.  It  was  im- 
prudent ;  and  Margaret  was  a  very  prudent 
girl  ! 

At  last  the  feared  yet  wished-for  hour 
came.  At  last  it  wanted  only  a  quarter  to 
six.  The  note  to  be  given  to  Lady  Sempro- 
nia when  her  ladyship's  cup  of  tea  was  car- 
ried up  to  her,  was  all  ready. 


"  Dear  Aunt,"  it  said, 

"  The  shock  which  has  sent  you  to  bed, 
has  reacted— less  forcibly,  no  doubt,  than  an 
your  delicately  sensitive  nervous  system — on 
me  too.  I  have  a  violent  headache,  and  am 
now  going  to  bed.  I  have  told  Elizabeth  to 
give  you  this  when  she  takes  you  your  tea, 
and  not  befoi-e,  lest  you  might  be  getting  a 
little  sleep.  I  hope,  dear  aunt,  that  we  may 
both  be  better  to-morrow. 

"  Your  loving  niece, 

"  Margaret." 

This  was  given  to  Lady  Sempronia's  maid 
with  injunctions  not  to  disturb  her  mistress 
till  tea-time,  then  to  carry  her  a  cup  of  tea, 
and  give  her  the  note  at  the  same  time. 

"  I  have  a  dreadful  headache  myself,  Eliza- 
beth," added  the  young  lady;  "  I  shall  nit 
stay  up  for  tea,  but  go  to  my  room  at  once. 
If  I  want  you  to  undress  me,  I  will  ring,  but 
do  not  disturb  me  unless  I  do  ;  for  if  I  can 
keep  myself  quiet  and  get  to  sleep,  I  would 
not  be  waked  for  the  world.  If  it  is  late 
when  I  wake,  I  will  manage  to  undress  by 
myself." 

Then  while  the  servant  was  going  through 
the  hall  towards  the  kitchen,  Margaret 
heavily  and  wearily  dragged  hei'self  up  half 
a  dozen  stairs  toward  her  room.  But  as  soon 
as  ever  the  swing  door  which  shut  off  the 
servants'  part  of  the  house  had  slammed  to 
behind  Elizabeth,  she  turned,  and  darting 
light  of  foot  as  an  antelope,  and  swift  as 
thought  into  the  drawing-room,  passed  gently 
through  the  window,  carefully  shutting  it 
after  her,  into  the  garden.  Then  tripping, 
with  short-drawn  breath  and  beating  heart, 


202  LINDISFARN    CHASE. 

along  the  dark  garden-walk  to  the  little  door   selves   till  once  again  there  came  the  harsh 
in  the  wall  leading  to  the  lane,  she  paused,   rattle  in  the  quarter  bell's  throat,  prepara- 
pressing  her  hand  to  her  bosom,  and  intently   tory  to  its   clearly  chimed  ding-dong, — the 
listening.     But   no  sound  broke  the  silence   first  quarter  after  six. 
save  the  audible  beating  of  her  own  heart.      I      Margaret   began   to   feel   both   physically 

She  had  not  waited  thus  more  than  a  few  and  morally  very  cold.  A  sickening  sensa- 
minutes,  however,  before  the  quarter  bell  in  tion  of  fear  crept  over  her.  Yet  there  was 
the  neighboring  cathedral  tower,  after  a  no  other  possible  course  to  follow  but  still  to 
strange  sort  of  grating,  jarring  prelude,  as  wait.  And  Margaret  still  waited,  with  a 
if  clearing  its  voice  before  speaking,  sung  rapidly  gathering  agony  in  her  heart,  a  few 
out  its  clear  ding-dong  ! — ding-dong  ! — ding-  hours  of  which  might  be  deemed  a  fair  ex- 
dong  ! — ding-dong  ! — Four  quarters.  It  was  piation  for  many  an  ill-spent  day. 
the  full  time  then.  Margaret  had  not  been  !  The  more  Margaret  reflected,  the  more  in- 
sure whether  it  might  not  yet  want  a  quarter  explicable  it  seemed  to  her.  And  if  she 
to  the  hour  fixed.  No  !  and  in  the  next  ',  could  have  perceived  what  was  taking  place 
instant  the  deeper  bass  of  the  hour  bell '  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  at  the  moment 
tolled,  one — two — three — four — five — six  !  she  was  leaving  the  house  to  come  out  into 
Of  course,  she  knew  very  well  that  the  bell ;  the  garden,  she  would  still  have  been  as 
was  going  to  strike  six.  Yet  it  seemed  to  '  much  at  a  loss  to  understand  the  meaning 
her  fancy  as  if  that  sixth  stroke  had  a  fate-  '  of  what  she  would  have  seen, 
ful  clinching  power  in  it,  which  cast  the  die  :  The  phenomena  which  presented  them- 
of  her  fate,  and  made  it  impossible  for  her  '  selves  on  that  side  of  the  brick  and  mortar 
to  draw  back.  screen  fell  out  in  this  wise. 

She  listened  still  more  intently  than  be- j  At  a  little  more  than  half-past  five  o'clock, 
fore,  but  heard  nothing.  Perhaps  the  car-  '  Frederick,  true  to  his  engagements,  was  giv- 
riage  had  already  taken  up  its  position  on  :  ing  the  last  instructions  to  a  well-  fed  post- 
the  other  side  of  the  wall  ;  and  perhaps  Fred-  |  boy  in  the  yard  of  the  Lindisfarn  Arms 
eriek  was  within  a  few  inches  of  her  on  the  ,  hostel  and  posting-house.  These  instruc- 
other  side  of  the  door,  afraid  to  give  any  ;  tions  were  that  he  should  remain  in  readi- 
audible  sign  of  his  presence,  for  fear  that  it  ness  himself,  his  chaise,  and  his  pair  of 
might  reach  other  ears  beside  hers.  i  horses   (for   Frederick   considered  that  four 

After  a  few  more  minutes  of  intent  listen-  ,  horses  would  only  serve  to  attract  attention 
ing,  which  seemed  to  be  at  least  four  times  in  a  manner  that  was  not  desirable  ;  and 
as  many  as  they  were,  she  decided  that  this  that  the  notion  that  four  horses  can  draw  a 
must  be  the  case,  and  she  determined  to  open  light  chaise  over  a  short  stage  more  quickly 
the  door.  There  could  be  very  little  risk  in  than  two  is  a  mere  popular  delusion,  unless, 
doing  so  ;  for  the  lane  was  a  lonely  one,  but  indeed,  the  stage  should  be  a  specially  hilly 
little  frequented  by  day,  and  still  more  cer-  one) ,  within  the  safe  seclusion  of  the  inn- 
tain  to  be  undisturbed  by  night.  She  turned  yard  till  six  o'clock, — that  he  should  then 
the  kly  in  the  lock  with  the  greatest  precau-  quietly  come  out,  and  proceeding  by  a  cer- 
tion,  starting  at  the  little  click  it  made  just  tain  back  way,  such  as  most  Old-World 
at  the  end  of  the  operation,  and  cautiously  English  cities  are  provided  with,  towards 
opening  the  door  a  little,  peered  out  into  the  the  turnpike  at  the  Castle  Head,  as  it  was 
darkness  of  the  lane.  She  could  see  noth-  called,  wkich  was  very  near  the  embouchure 
ing  !  And  yet  she  was  sure  she  had  counted  :  of  the  lane  behind  the  doctor's  garden  into 
the  striking  of  the  clock  aright.  [  the   road,  should   so   come  on  towards  the 

And  then  a  sudden  hot  flush  came  over  little  door  from  which  Margaret  was  to 
her  ;  and  she  began  to  think  of  the  retribu-  emerge,  telling  anybody  who  might  ques- 
tive  storm  of  indignation  and  reproach  with  tion  him — if  the  questioner  were  one  to 
which  she  would  visit  the  delinquent  for  his  whom  it  was  necessary  to  reply  at  all — that 
unpunctuality  as  soon  as  he  should  arrive.       i  he,   the   postboy,   was   going   to   carry  Dr. 

She  all  but  closed  the  door,  leaving  barely  Lindisfarn  up  to  the  Chase  to  dinner — a 
a  sufficient  aperture  for  her  to  keep  her  anx-  perfectly  reasonable  and  satisfactory  reply, 
ious  watch  of  the  lane.  And  the  intolerably  inasmuch  as  the  doctor  when  going  to  the 
tedious  minutes  slowly  accumulated   them-    Chase  usually  did  get  into  his  chaise  at  the 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


203 


little  garden-door,  which,  opening  so  near  to 
the  Castle  Head  turnpike,  saved  him  a  con- 
siderable detour  through  the  town. 

Nothing  could  have  been  better  arranged. 
Jonas  Wyvill,  the  postboy, — he  was  a  cousin, 
I  fancy,  of  those  Wyvills  one  of  whom  was 
a  verger  in  the  cathedral,  and  another  a  su- 
perannuated gamekeeper  up  at  the  Chase, 
and  "boy-'  as  he  was  perennially  in  pro- 
fessional posting  parlance,  had  long  since 
reached  a  very  discreet  age, — Jonas  Wyvill 
had  pocketed  his  retaining  fee,  perfectly 
comprehended  his  instructions,  got  into  the 
saddle  at  six  punctually,  precisely  as  the 
cathedral  clock — that  same  bell  to  which 
Margaret  had  listened  so  nervously — struck 
the  quarters,  and  quietly  proceeded  towards 
the  place  of  rendezvous. 

Frederick,  fond  and  faithful,  was  standing 
on  the  other  side  of  the  little  door  at  the 
moment  that  his  beloved  was  tripping  across 
the  garden  towards  it.  In  another  minute 
they  would  have  been  in  each  other's  arms, 
and  in  the  next  dashing  along  the  road  on 
their  way  to  Scotland. 

What  could  have  interrupted  so  suddenly 
the  course  of  true  love  which  had  run  smoothly 
so  very  nearly  to  the  point  of  pouring  itself 
into  the  ocean  of  connubial  felicity? 

Frederick  was  on  the  outside  of  the  garden- 
door,  with  his  ear  close  to  the  panel  of  it. 
It  wanted  just  one  minute  to  six  ;  when,  in- 
stead of  the  light  step  which  he  was  straining 
his  ear  to  catch  the  sound  of  on  the  other  side 
of  the  wall,  and  which  in  another  minute  he 
would  have  heard,  he  became  aware  of  a  foot- 
fall of  a  very  different  character  close  to  him 
in  the  lane.  And  the  next  instant  he  dis- 
tinguished in  the  rapidly  increasing  darkness 
old  Gregory  Greatorex,  his  father's  long- 
tried,  trusty,  and  confidential  clerk. 

Old  Greg  Greatorex  was  one  of  those  men 
who  look  like  over-grown  and  ill-grown  boys 
all  the  days  of  their  lives.  Old  Greg  was 
nearly  sixty  years  old,  and  as  gray  as  a 
badger.  But  still  his  gaunt,  shambling  figure 
had  the  peculiar  eflfect  above  mentioned. 
Perhaps  it  was  mainly  occasioned  by  the  fact 
that  his  body  was  very  short  in  proportion  to 
his  long,  flute  likelegs.  They  seemed — those 
straggling,  ill-shapen,  knock-kneed,  long 
legs — to  be  attached  to  his  body  rather  after 
the  fashion  in  which  those  of  Punch's  dramatis 
persona  are  arranged  than  according  to  the 
more  usual  method  of  nature's  handiwork. 


Then  he  had  no  beard,  or  any  other  visible  or 
traceable  hair  on  his  broad  white  face.  Old 
Greg  had  lived,  man  and  boy,  with  Mr.  Fal 
coner  as  long  and  rather  longer  than  he 
could  remember  anything.  And  it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  imagine  any  command 
of  the  banker  which  Gregory  would  not  have 
faithfully  excuted,  not  exactly  from  affection 
for  his  master, — Greg  Greatorex  was  not  of  a 
remarkably  affectionate  nature, — but  simply 
because  it  seemed  to  his  intelligence,  part  of 
the  natural,  necessary,  and  inevitable  nature 
of  things  that  it  should  be  so. 

"  Come,  come  away,  sir,  quick  !  this  in- 
stant!  Thfink  the  Lord,  I'm  in  time!" 
panted  the  old  man  into  Frederick's  ear. 

"  Good  God  !  Gregory,  what  do  you  mean? 
What  are  you  come  here  for?  Why,  man, 
the  governor's  up  to  it,"  he  whispered  into 
the  old  clerk's  ear. 

"  I  know  !  J  know,  sir.  The  governor 
has  sent  me  here  now.  It  is  a  good  job  I  am 
in  time.  The  old  gentleman  would  have  run 
here  himself,  only  he  knew  I  could  come  fast- 
est.    I  never  saw  him  in  such  a  way." 

"  What's  up  now,  then?  What  is  it,  in 
Heaven's  name,  Gregory?  " 

"You  must  ask  your  father  that,  sir. 
There  was  no  time  to  tell  anything  ;— it  was 
just  touch  and  go  !  But  all  the  fat  is  in  the 
fire  some  way  or  another  ;  and  if  this  run- 
away job  had  a'  come  off,  you  would  have 
been  a  ruined  man,  Mr.  Frederick.  I  heard 
your  father  say  so  much." 

"  Good  heavens  !  What  am  I  to  do  ?  " 
whispered  Frederick. 

"  Come  away,  sir,  from  here.  Come  to 
your  father  and  hear  all  about  it.  Anyway, 
you  may  be  quite  sure  there  is  to  be  no  elope- 
ment to-night." 

"And  Margaret  ?— the  lady,  Gregory? 
What  in  the  world  am  I  to  do  about  the 
lady  ?  She  will  be  here  in  a  minute,  if  she 
is  not  at  this  moment  waiting  on  the  other 
side  of  this  door." 

"  Leave  her  to  wait,  sir  ;  she  will  soon 
find  out  that  something  has  put  the  job  off." 

"  She  will  never  forgive  me,"  sighed  Fred- 
erick. 

"It  don't  much  signify  whether  she  does 
or  not,  so  far  as  I  can  understand,"  chuckled 
the  old  clerk.  "  But  you  can  come  and  hear 
what  your  father  has  to  tell  you  about  it, 
and  thank  your  stars  that  this  business  was 
put  a  stop  to  in  time." 


204 


"  But  the  chaise  will  be  here  in  a  minute, 
Gregorj'.  There  !  it  is  striking  six  now  ! 
The  chaise  was  to  come  out  from  the  Lindis- 
farn  Arms  as  it  struck  six." 

"  I'll  go  and  meet  it,  sir,  and  turn  it  back., 
while  you  go  to  your  father.  It  would  come 
up  the  back  lane  to  the  Castle  Head,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"  Yes,  you  will  meet  it  in  the  lane.  It  is 
old  Jonas  Wyvill ;  you  must  tell  him  that  it 
is  put  off  for  to-night." 

"  Or  rather  that  it  ia  not '  off '  ;  "  said 
Greatorex,  who  had  recovered  breath  enough 
for  superfluous  words  by  this  time,  and  for  a 
chuckle  at  his  own  wit. 

They  had  withdrawn  from  the  immediate 
vicinity  of  the  door  in  the  wall  as  the  clock 
struck,  but  still  spoke  in  whispers.  Had 
Margaret  opened  the  door  a  moment  sooner 
than  she  did,  she  would  have  seen  the  two 
men,  within  a  few  paces  of  her.  But  they 
separated  at  the  mouth  of  the  Httle  lane 
some  fifty  yards  from  the  doctor's  garden- 
door,  as  the  last  words  were  spoken, — the 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


old  clerk  to  meet  and  turn  back  Jonas  Wyvill 
and  the  chaise ;  Frederick  to  hasten  to  his 
father's  house  in  the  Close,  to  learn  the  ex- 
planation of  this  most  unexpected  and 
unpleasant  termination  of  the  enterprise 
which  had  seemed  on  the  eve  of  successful 
execution. 

He  did  for  one  instant  think  of  seeing  his 
Margaret,  and  telling  her,  aa  best  he  might, 
that  some  contretemps  had  frustrated  their 
plan  for  to-night,  instead  of  thus  brutally 
leaving  her  to  the  agonies  of  suspense,  and 
slowly-growing  conviction  that  it  was  a  hope- 
less disappointment.  But  Frederick  was  not 
a  very  brave  man,  and  he  stood  in  no  little 
fear  of  his  gentle  Marguerite.  It  would  not, 
it  may  be  admitted,  have  been  a  pleasant  in- 
terview ;  and  perhaps  braver  men  than  Fred- 
erick Falconer  might  have  hesitated  about 
facing  the  lady  in  the  moment  of  her  legiti 
mate  wrath.  But  it  certainly  was  a  cur's 
trick  to  sneak  off  and  leave  her  as  he  did. 
But  que  voukz-vous7  Figs  loont  grow  on 
thistles. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 

I  High   Street   was  eligible. 


205 

CHAPTER  XXXVII.  (  iligli   Street   was  eligible.     Of   course  the 

OF  sLOwco.M£  AND  sLiQO,  BUT  MOBE  ESPECIALLY   master's  SOD  was  duly  sent  up  to  Oxford  to 
OF  sLOwooME.  be  endowed  with  this  not  severely  contested 

The  business  premises  of  Messieurs  Slow-  fellowship,  and,  unless  when  the  time  came 
come  and  Sligo  occupied  the  ground-floor  of '  for  appointing  a  new  master  to  Silvcrton 
one  of  the  best  houses  in  the  best  part  of  the  school  he  was  already  better  provided  for,  the 
High  Street  of  Silverton.     It  was,  and  was   fellow  so  elected  was  usually  sent  back  a"-ain 


well  known  by  everybody  who  knew  anythinj 
in  Silvcrton  to  be,  one  of  the  best,  most  roomy, 
and  most  substantial  houses  in  the  old  city  ; 


to  his  native  city  in  the  character  of  master 
of  the  school. 

There  was  also  a  "High  Bursar  "  of  the 


but  it  by  no  means  asserted  itself  as  such  by  its   college.     I  do  not  suppose  that  many  persons 
onward  appearance.     There  was  a  Grammar  '  in  Silverton,  with  the  exception  of  the  local 


School  of  very  ancient  foundation  at  Silver- 
ton — so  ancient  that  it  looked  down  on  all 
the  crowd  of  Edward  the  Fourth  and  Eliza- 


antiquaries  and  historians,  ever  heard  of  this 
dignitary.  What  or  whether  any  functions 
were   discharged  by    the  High   Bursar,   or 


bcth's  foundations  as  mere  mushroom  growths,  ',  whether  any  profit  or  other  advantage  accrued 


-and  the  venerable  and  picturesque,  but  very 
ingy  and  somewhat  dilapidated-looking,  col- 


to  that  ofScer  or    to  the  "  Grammar  School 
and  Chantry  of  St.  Walportde  Weston  prope 


legiate   buildings,  stood  in  the  High  Street,    Silverton," — as,  despite  all  changes  of  man- 
withdrawing  themselves   with  shy  pride,  as   ners  and  creeds,  the  old  foundation  still  de- 


such  old  buildings  often  will,  from  the  front- 
age line  of  the  rest  of  the  street,  and  shrink- 
ing backwards  from  the  modern  light,  and 
the  noise,  and  the  traffic,  some  fifteen  or 
eighteen  feet  to  the  rear,  so  as  to  leave  a  va- 
cant space  of  that  extent  between  the  footpath 


lighted  to  style  itself,  whenever  its  feeble  se- 
nile voice  could  find  force  to  make  itself 
heard  at  all, — I  am  not  aware.  Nor  do  I  at 
all  know  how,  why,  or  by  what  authority,  the 
High  Bursar  became  such.  But  I  do  know 
what  few  Silvertonians,  I  take  it,  did, — that 


of  the  modern  street  and  the  dark  old  Gothic   Silas  Slowcome,  Esq.,  was  the  High  Bursar  ; 
frontage,  the  work  of  one  of  those  centuries,  ;  and  I  have  been  told  that  the  memory  of  man 


which,  inarticulate  as  they  were  in  compari- 
son to  our  own  many-voiced  times,  yet  con- 


in  Silverton  ran  not  to  the  contrary  of  the  fact 
of  a  Slowcome  occupying  the  same  position. 


trived,  somehow  or   other,  to   make  the  ser-   Nor  do  I   know  whether   it  was  by  virtue  of 
mons  that  their  stones  preached  very  unmis-  !  the  office  so  held  that  the  reigning  Slowcome 


takable  and  eloquent 


always  dwelt  in  the  substantial  but  dim-look- 


The  old  Grammar  School  had  reason  to  be  '  ing  old  house  I  have  been  speaking  of  above, 
shy  and  retiring  ;    for  the   fact  was  it  had   which  was  next  to  the  school,  standino-  back 


seen  much  better  days.    It  had  been  richly 
endowed  and  wealthy  in  its  time,  with  advow- 
sons,  and  rent  charges,  and  great  tithes,  and 
small  tithes,  and   bits  of  fat  land   here  and 
there  all  over  the  country.     But  things  had 
gone  very  hard   with  the  old  college  at  the 
time  of  the  Reformation, 
wholly  and  solely  a  school 
a  choral  establishment  had  been  comprised 
the  intentions  of  the  founder, — palpably  su 


from  the  street  like  it,  and  which,  as  the  lo- 
cal guide-books  tell  you,  formerly  constituted 
a  part  of  the  old  foundation.  I  fancy,  that 
it  was,  and  is,  the  property  of  the  school  still, 
and  probably  about  the  only  property  remain- 
ing to  it ;  and  that  the  rent — not  an  exces- 
It  had  not  been  sive  one  probably — paid  by  the  Messrs.  Slow- 
A  chantry  with  come,  with  some  addition,  perhaps,  from 
Silvcrton  College,  forms  the  main  portion  of 
the  master's  money  endowment.     The  whole 


perstitious  uses,  and  flagrant  in  proportion  to  practice  and  theory  of  this  High  Bursarship 
the  amount  of  the  wealth  devoted  to  them, —  is,  however,  an  obscure  subject.  I  know  that 
and  the  old  college  had  been  very  mercilessly  ,  old  Slowcome  always  went  accompanied  by  s 
pruned  by  those  to  whom  all  such  things  clerk  carrying  an  ancient-looking  box,  let- 
were  an  abomination.  There  was  still  one  tered  "  Grammar  School  and  Chantry  of  St. 
endowed  mastership,  a  piece  of  preferment  in  I  Walport  de  Weston  prope  Silverton,"  into 
the  gift  of  the  Principal  and  Fellows  of  Sil-  '  the  old  schoolroom  on  the  morning  of  St. 
verton  College,  Oxford  ;  and  there  was  one  Walport's  day,  that  he  remained  there  with 
fellowship  in  the  same  college,  to  which  no  I  the  master  for  perhaps  three  minutes  ;  and 
one  save  a  scholar  of  the  old  school  in  the  '  that  the  master  always  dined  with  the  High 


206 

Bursar  on  the  evening  of  that  day.  I  know, 
too,  that  old  Slowcome,  who  had  a  son  a  gen- 
tleman commoner,  at  Silverton  College,  used 
to  go  up  to  Oxford  now  and  then,  and  always 
dined  at  the  high  table  in  Hall  when  he  did 
so.  But  this,  beyond  the  fact  of  his  inhabit- 
ing the  old  house  by  the  side  of  the  school 
buildings,  is  absolutely  all  I  could  ever  learn 
about  the  connection  between  the  High  Bur- 
sar and  the  Walport's. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  house  as 
it  at  present  exists  is,  though  evideiltly  older 
than  its  neighbors,  by  any  means  of  the  same 
date  as  the  picturesque  Gothic  building  by  its 
side.  No  doubt  it  was  entirely  changed  and 
modernized,  when  it  was  diverted  from  its 
original  uses  to  that  of  a  family  dwelling- 
house.  And  the  building  as  it  now  is  dates 
probably  from  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth 
or  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century.  It 
is  very  dingy-looking,  especially  on  the 
ground-floor  ;  on  the  upper  floors,  Mrs.  Sligo, 
who,  much  to  her  discontent,  is  compelled  to 
live  there,  takes  care  that  all  that  paint  and 
washing  can  do  to  brighten  it  up  shall  not  be 
neglected.  The  windows  and  door-posts, 
however,  of  the  ground-floor  in  the  front  of 
the  house  are  yellow  with  the  effect  of  time. 
The  great  black  hall-door  in  the  centre,  be- 
tween its  heavy  stone  columns,  stands  open — 
like  gate  of  black  Dis — at  least  during  busi- 
ness hours,  and  admits  all  who  choose  to  en- 
ter into  a  large  hall,  closed  on  the  opposite 
side  by  a  modern  glazed  door,  on  which  is  a 
brass  plate,  bearing  the  names  of  Slowcome 
and  Sligo.  One  large  room  to  the  right  of 
this  entrance  is,  or  at  least  forty  years  ago 
was,  occupied  entirely  by  a  vast  quantity  of 
boxes,  some  of  wood  and  some  of  metal,  with 
the  names  of  most  of  the  Sillshire  aristocracy 
painted  on  them.  There  were  heavy  bars  be- 
fore the  windows  of  this  prison-like  room, 
and  otlier  internal  precautions  both  against 
fire  and  thieves.  Another  equally  large  room 
on  the  other  side  of  the  entrance  was  fitted 
up  as  a  clerk's  office,  and  was  tenanted  by 
the  younger  members  of  the  legal  family. 
The  principals  of  the  firm,  and  the  managing 
clerk,  Mr.  Benjamin  Wyvill, —  (it  is  curious 
how,  in  small  old-fashioned  country  towns, 
not  much  exposed  to  changes  by  emigration 
or  immigration,  the  same  names  occur  again 
and  again  in  various  strata  of  the  body  social) 
— the  principals  and  Mr.  Wyvill,  I  say,  had 
their  rooms  at  the  much  pleasanter  and 
brighter-looking  back  of  the  house. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


The  upper  part  of  the  building  was  inhab- 
ited, as  has  been  mentioned,  by  the  Sligos  ; 
and  was  in  truth  a  very  much  better  resi- 
dence than  ]Mrs.  Sligo  could  have  hoped  to 
enjoy  elsewhere.  Nevertheless,  that  lady, 
who  was  not  of  Sillshire  birth,  but  who  held 
rather  a  remarkable  position  in  the  Silverton 
world,  and  who  was  indeed  herself  a  remark- 
able woman, — though  I  fear  I  may  hardly 
have  an  opportunity  of  making  the  reader 
acquainted  with  her  in  the  course  of  this 
history. — Mrs.  Sligo,  I  say,  was  much  discon- 
tented with  the  arrangement.  The  senior 
partner  resided  with  his  wife  and  family  in 
an  extremely  pretty  little  villa  residence  just 
outside  the  town  on  the  top  of  the  high 
ground  behind  the  cathedral,  looking  toward 
the  Lindisfarn  woods.  The  firm  had  been 
Slowcome  and  Sligo  for  more  than  two  gen- 
erations, the  senior  partner  always  main- 
taining his  position  in  it.  The  present  Mr. 
Slowcome  was  an  old  man,  and  the  present 
Mr.  Sligo  a  young  one,  who  had  inherited 
his  late  father's  share  of  the  business. 

On  that  same  day  on  which  Frederick  and 
Margaret  were  to  have  emancipated  them- 
selves, in  the  manner  that  has  been  described, 
from  bondage  to  Mr.  Slowcome's  parchments 
and  papers,  that  gentleman  was  sitting  as 
usual  at  his  work  in  his  warm  and  comforta- 
ble room  at  the  back  of  the  old  house  in  the 
High  Street.  There  be  sat  at  his  library 
table,  thickly  strewn  with  papers,  very  leis- 
urely writing  a  letter.  Whatever  old  Slow- 
come did,  he  did  it  leisurely.  Whenever 
any  old  acquaintance  came  into  his  room, 
he  would  speak  of  the  tremendous  press  of 
business,  which  made  it  impossible  ever  to 
get  away  from  the  office.  And,  in  truth,  he 
never  did  get  away  from  the  office,  save  on 
Sundays.  There  was  no  vacation-time  for 
him.  He  lived  always  in  his  office  from  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning  till  five  in  the  even- 
ing, and  often  till  a  much  later  hour.  For 
if  anything  chanced  to  detain  him,  his  prin- 
ciples as  to  the  duty  of  punctuality  at  his 
own  dinner-table  proved  to  be  of  the  loosest 
description,  as  Mrs.  Slowcome  was  wont 
bitterly  to  complain.  x\nd  yet  when  thus 
enlarging  to  any  chance  comer  upon  the 
grievous  burden  of  his  work,  and  the  in- 
sufficiency of  the  hours  of  the  day  for  the 
doing  of  it,  he  would  spend  half  an  hour 
in  chatting  over  the  subject.  He  never 
seemed  to  be  in  a  hurry,  and  though  al- 
ways behindhand,  always  kept  plodding  on 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


207 


with  a  Blow,  steady  sort  of  tortoise-like  per- 
tinacity, Avhicli,  it  must  be  supposed,  did 
contrive  to  transact  the  business  to  be  done 
somehow  or  other.  For  Slowcome  and  Sligo 
had  the  business  of  almost  all  the  gentry  of 
Sillfiliire  in  their  hands,  and  the  business  did 
not  come  to  grief,  and  none  of  their  custom- 
ers ever  dreamed  of  leaving  the  old  firm. 

On  the  contrary,  old  Slowcome  was  one  of 
the  most  highly  respected  men  in  Sillshire. 

Nor  was  it  at  all  true  that  Slowcome  was 
a  beast,  as  Fre'derick  had  protested  to  Mar- 
garet, in  his  indignation, — not  at  all.  Old 
Slowcome  was  nearly  seventy  years  old,  and 
he  was  and  had  been  all  his  life  an  attornej'- 
at-law.  It  is  true  that  he  had  a  bald  round 
head,  with  a  pigtail,  rather  aggressive  in  its 
expression,  sticking  horizontally  out  behind 
it,  and  a  comfortable  little  round  protuber- 
ance in  front  of  him,  from  the  apex  of  which 
dangled  a  somewhat  exuberant  gold  watch- 
chain  with  three  or  four  extra  sized  seals  ap- 
pended to  it,  which  swayed  and  swagged  in 
a  manner  that  perhaps  rather  too  ostenta' 
tiously  spoke  of  their  owner  being  able  to 
pay  his  way,  and  being  beholden  to  no 
man  ;  true  also  that  the  extraordinarily  am- 
ple frills  of  his  shirt-fronts,  always  exqui- 
sitely plaited,  perked  themselves  up  rather 
aggravatingly ;  that  his  white  waistcoat, 
black  coat,  ditto  shorts,  with  their  gold 
buckles  at  the  knees,  black  silk  stockings, 
irreproachably  drawn  over  somewhat  thick 
and  short  legs,  and  admirably  blacked  square- 
toed  shoes,  all  carried  with  them  a  certain 
air  of  self-assertion  ;  true,  moreover,  that 
nobody  ever  suspected  any  past  or  present 
member  of  the  firm  of  Slowcome  and  Sligo 
of  wearing  their  hearts  upon  their  sleeves  ; 
and  undeniably  true  that  if  you  asked  Mr. 
Slowcome  any  question  the  answer  to  which 
you  were  waiting  for  with  breathless  sus- 
pense, he  would  always  take  a  huge  pinch 
of  snuff,  in  the  most  leisurely  manner,  be- 
fore answering  you.  Still,  all  these  things 
do  not  make  a  man  utterly  a  beast. 

It  may  be  admitted,  perhaps,  that  old  Slow- 
come, as  observed  in  his  little  round,  low- 
backed  Windsor  chair,  in  his  office,  was  not 
apt  to  strike  a  student  of  mankind,  visiting 
him  tliere,  as  a  genial,  lovely,  or  large-heart- 
ed specimen  of  the  genus  homo ;  that  the  spe- 
cific differentiation  was  more  obtrusively  prom- 
inent than  the  generic  characteristics,  and 
the  man  was,  in  some  desree,  merged  in  the 


attorney.  Yet  in  that  pretty  little  suburban 
villa,  up  near  the  Castle  Head,  where  the 
whole  place,  from  the  overarched  entrance 
gateway,  all  round  the  shrubberies,  enclos- 
ing the  exquisitely  shaven  lawn,  to  the  porch 
of  the  elegant  little  dwelling,  seemed  to  be 
one  bower  of  roses,  wherein  a  Mother  Slow- 
come and  three  blossoming  daughters  wore 
nested ;  there  it  may  be  that  old  Slowcome 
was  recognized  as  human,  and  that  the  man 
reasserted,  for  a  few  all  too  fleeting  hours, 
his  ascendency  over  the  attorney.  It  is  pos- 
sible to  imagine,  even,  that  the  time  may 
have  been  when  he  himself  was  impatient  for 
the  approaching  day  of  his  union  with  her 
who  has  been  the  presiding  genius  of  Arcady 
Lodge  for  now  more  than  forty  years, — pos- 
sible that  he,  also,  may  in  his  green  and  in- 
experienced youth,  have  cursed  the  law's  de- 
lay, and  the  tardiness  of  the  drawers  of  draft 
settlements.  There  must  have  been  mem- 
ories. Daughters  must  exercise  a  humaniz- 
ing influence  even  on  an  attorney-at-law ! 
He  can  talk  to  his  sons  of  capiases,  and  such- 
like ;  but  he  must  come  out  from  among  these 
to  hold  converse  with  his  daughters.  Even 
if  rating  them  for  permitting  a  garrison  cap- 
tain to  dangle  after  them  in  their  progress 
up  the  High  Street,  from  the  circulating  li- 
brary and  fine  art  emporium  of  Mr.  Glossable 
to  the  workshop  of  little  Miss  Piper  over  the 
perfumer's,  he  does  not,  I  suppose,  ask  them 
quo  warranto  they  so  offended.  No!  there 
must  have  been  humanizing  influences  at  Ar- 
cady Lodge.  The  mischief  was  that  old 
Slowcome  was  there  for  so  small  a  portion  of 
his  existence.  And  ]Mrs.  Slowcome  com- 
plained that  he  got  worse  and  worse,  in  the 
matter  of  coming  home  too  late  for  dinner. 
He  seemed,  literally,  to  have  lost  all  per- 
ception of  the  lapse  of  time,  and  would  go  on 
prosing  and  boring,  as  if  the  minutes  were 
not  growing  into  hours  the  while. 

The  dinner-hour  at  Arcady  Lodge  was  half- 
past  five;  and  Mr.  Slowcome  ought  to  have 
left  his  office  at  four.  The  great  outer  door 
was  shut  at  that  time  ;  and  the  junior  clerk 
was  punctual  enough  in  performing  that  duty. 
But  that  did  not  get  old  Slow,  as  the  young 
men  in  the  office  called  him,  out  of  his  room. 
And  people  knew  very  well  that  he  was,  in 
all  probability,  to  be  found  there  long  after 
office-hours  ;  and  would  come  and  knock  at 
the  .door,  to  the  infinite  disgust  of  the  smart 
young  gent  who  had  to  open  it,  and  who,  af- 


208 

ter  having  once  replied,  "After  oiEce  hours," 
as  shortly  and  sharply  as  the  appearance  of 
the  applicant  made  it  safe  for  him  to  do, 
dared  not  answer  in  the  nej^ative  to  the  reit- 
erated demand,  "  Is  Mr.  Slowcome  now  in 
the  house?" 

It  was  just  about  the  hour  for  shutting, 
on  the  day  on  which  Frederick,  as  the  read- 
er knows,  did  not  run  off  with  ^Margaret 
Lindisfarn,  that  a  person  called  at  the  office 
of  Messrs.  Slowcome  and  Sligo  in  the  High 
Street. 

"  Mr.  Sligo  is  in  his  room,"  said  the  clerk, 
knowing  very  well  that  no  visitor,  be  his  er- 
rand what  it  might,  would  keep  that  gentle- 
man at  the  office  beyond  the  proper  hour  for 
shutting  it,  whereas  he  might  likely  enough 
detain  old  Slow,  and  consequently  himself, 
the  young  gent  in  question, — which  was  of 
much  greater  consequence, — for  the  next  three 
hours.  Either  of  the  elder  clerks  of  Messrs. 
Slowcome  and  Sligo  would  probably  have 
known  the  stranger  by  sight ;  but  the  young 
gent,  who  had  only  recently  been  promoted 
to  his  stool,  had  never  seen  him  before,  and 
could  not  make  him  out  at  all. 

He  was  a  remarkably  handsome,  and  yet 
not  a  prepossessing,  man,  even  to  the  not  as 
yet  perfectly  developed  and  cultivated  cesthe- 
tic  sentiments  of  young  Bob  Scott,  the  clerk 
in  question.  He  was  unusually  tall,  and 
slenderly  made.  But  there  was  a  something 
sinister  in  the  expression  of  the  handsome 
features,  and  repulsive  in  the  swagger  of  self- 
assertion,  which  had  been  generated  by  an 
habitual  feeling  of  the  need  of  it,  and  which 
produced  its  effect  on  Bob  Scott,  though  he 
could  not  have  explained  as  much  in  words. 
Then,  the  style  of  the  stranger's  dress  was 
objectionable  to  men  and  gods.  A  somewhat 
loudly  smart  style  of  toilet  would  not  have 
offended  the  taste  of  the  youthful  Bob  Scott. 
A  grave  propriety  would  have  commanded 
his  respect.  Even  consistent  shabbiness, 
though  it  might  have  added  some  sharpness 
to  the  tone  of  Bob's  reply,  would  have  failed 
to  arouse  the  sentiment  of  suspicion  and  dis- 
like with  wliich  he  viewed  tlie  applicant  for 
an  interview  with  the  head  of  the  firm.  A 
very  threadbare  pair  of  Oxford-mixture  trou- 
Bers,  ending  in  still  more  dilapidated  boots, 
clothed  the  lower  part  of  his  person,  and 
might  with  propriety  enough,  have  formed 
the  costume  of  some  member  of  Bob  Scott's 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


own  profession,  at  odds  with  fortune.  But 
a  green  cut-away  coat,  much  weather-stained, 
and  a  bright  blue,  exuberant,  and  very  smart 
neck-handkerchief,  seemed  quite  out  of  char- 
acter with  any  such  theory  ;  and  a  shallow- 
crowned,  broad-brimmed  hat,  put  on  very 
much  over  one  knowing-looking  eye,  seemed 
neither  to  belong  to  any  of  the  walks  of  life 
to  which  the  trousers  and  boots  might  be 
supposed  to  belong,  nor  to  the  "  horsy  "  sport- 
ing style  of  the  man's  upper  habiliments. 
In  short,  Bob  Scott  could  make  nothing  out 
of  him  except  that  he  was  a  very  queer  cus- 
tomer. 

"  Mr.  Sligo  is  in  his  room  !  "  said  Bob. 

"I  said  nothing  about  Mr.  Sligo,"  re- 
turned the  stranger  ;  "I  asked  if  Mr.  Slow- 
come was  here.  If  not,  I  must  go  up  to  him 
at  the  Castle  Head,  that's  all." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Slowcome  is  in.  I'll  ask  him 
if  he  chooses  to  see  you,"  said  Bob,  sulkily, 
taking  the  stranger's  measure  with  a  stare 
that  travelled  all  over  him  leisurely,  without 
the  least  attempt  to  disguise  itself. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  ask  him  ?  "  said 
the  stranger. 

"  Why,  if  he'll  see  you,  if  that's  what  you 
want,"  said  Bob. 

"  See  who,  you  blockhead  ?  " 

"  Come,  I  say  !  I'll  trouble  you  to  speak 
civilly,  whoever  you  are  !  "  remonstrated 
Bob,  in  very  considerable  indignation. 

"  You  don't  half  know  your  business, 
young  man.  Go  and  tell  old  Slow  that  Mr. 
Jared  Mallory,  of  Sillmouth,  wants  to  speak 
to  him  on  business  of  importance." 

"  Mr.  Jared  Mallory,  of  Sillmouth  !  "  re- 
peated Bob  ;  "  oh,  how  was  1  to  know?  " 

So  he  left  Mr.  Mallory  at  the  door,  and  in 
a  minute  came  back  to  say  that  Mr.  Slow- 
come would  see  him. 

The  reader  has  already  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  one  Mr.  Jared  Mallory  ;  but  it  will  be 
seen  at  once  that  the  man  standing  atthe 
door  of  Messrs.  Slowcome  and  Sligo's  office  is 
not  the  same  individual.  It  was  his  son ; 
Mr.  Jared  Mallory,  junior,  attorney-at-law, 
of  Sillmouth,  was  the  son  of  old  J^rcd  Mal- 
lory, the  parish  clerk  at  Chewton,  and  the 
brother  of  Bab  Mallory,  "  the  moorland  wild- 
flower,"  whom  we  last  saw  clambering  up 
the  side  of  the  Saucy  Sally,  to  be  received  on 
that  vessel's  deck  by  Julian  Lindisfarn,  on 
his  way  back  to  France. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 
A   PAIR   OF  ATTOKNEYS. 

Mr.  Jaked  ]\Iallory  of  Sillmoutli,  attor- 
ncy-at-law,  had  a  practice  there  of  a  rather 
peculiar  eort.  not  quite  bo  profitable  as  it 
ought  to  have  been  in  proportion  to  its  ex- 
tent, and  in  consideration  of  the  not  always 
agreeable  nature  of  the  business  involved  in 
it.  Still  it  was  a  kind  of  business  that  suited 
the  man.  lie  was  an  attorney  and  so  was 
Slowcomc.  But  the  lives  and  occupations 
of  no  two  men  could  be  more  different ;  and 
no  amount  of  reward,  in  cash,  Arcady  Villas, 
and  respectability,  could  have  induced  Jarcd 
Mallory  to  sit  seven  or  eight  hours  in  a  snug, 
warm  office  every  day  of  his  life.  The  nature 
of  the  population  of  Sillmouth,  and  the  cir- 
cumstance of  the  elder  Mallory's  connection 
with  one  class  of  its  inhabitants,  will  suffice 
to  explain  as  far  as  needs  be  the  general 
nature  of  tha  branch  of  business  to  which 
Mr.  Mallory,  junior,  devoted  himself.  It 
was  not  a  class  of  business  wTiich  was  in  the 
ordinary  nature  of  things  calculated  to  make 
a  man  nice  or  scrupulous  ;  nor  was  it  at  all 
of  a  nature  likely  to  bring  Mr.  Mallory  into 
contact  with  the  members  of  that  sleek,  pros- 
perous, and  eminently  respectable  firm,  the 
Messieurs  Slowcome  and  Sligo,  of  Silverton  ; 
60  that  the  Sillmouth  attorney  was  very  near- 
ly, though  not  absolutely  a  stranger  to  his 
compeer  of  Silverton. 

"  Mr.  Mallory,  of  Sillmouth,  I  believe," 
said  old  Slowcome,  half  rising  from  his  chair 
for  an  instant  as  his  visitor  entered,  and  then 
very  deliberately  putting  his  double  gold 
eyeglass  on  his  nose,  and  as  leisui-ely  looking 
him  over  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Slowcome.  We  have  met  be- 
fore—  But  you  gentlemen  in  our  old-fash- 
ioned little  Sillshire  metropolis  here  hold 
your  Jieads  so  mighty  high — that  " — 

"  Nevertheless,  Mr.  Mallory,"  replied  Mr. 
Slowcome,  very  deliberately,  and  almost,  we 
might  say,  sleepily,  and  provokingly  accept- 
ing and  avowing,  as  a  fact  which  admitted 
of  no  dispute,  the  Sillmouth  attorney's  state- 
ment of  the  wide  social  space  which  separated 
them  from  each  other, — "ne — ver — the — less. 
Mis — ter  Mai — lo — ry,  I  shall  be  very  happy 
to  give  you  my  best  at — ten — ti— on." 

"  Not  a  doubt  about  that,  Mr.  Slowcome  !  " 
returned  Mallory,  nettled,  and  eying  the  re- 
sp(!ctable  man  with  a  glance  of  malicious  tri- 
umph,— "  not  a  shadow  of  a  doubt  or  mis- 

14 


209 


take  about  that,  as  soon  as  you  shall  have 
heard  the  nature  of  my  business." 

"  And  pray  what  may  the  nature  of  that 
business  be — a — Mis — ter  Mallory?"  said 
old  Slow,  with  the  most  imperturbable  and 
aggravating  composure,  speaking  the  words 
with  a  staccato  sort  of  movement,  as  if  some 
self-adjusting  utterance  measurer  were  tick- 
ing them  off  and  making  them  up  into  six- 
and-eightpenny  worths.  "  You  must  excuse 
me  if  press  of  business  compels  me  to  observe 
that  my  time  is  very  precious,"  he  continued, 
still  speaking  in  the  most  leisurely  manner, 
and  throwing  himself  back  in  his  chair,  as  he 
crossed  one  fat,  silk-covered  calf  over  its 
brother's  knee,  and  pushed  up  his  gold  eye- 
glasses on  his  foi'ehead,  as  if  to  peer  out 
under  them  at  his  visitor. 

"  Oh,  yes.  Of  course,  of  course.  I'm  in 
a  deuce  of  a  hurry  myself, — always  am  ;  but 
duty  to  a  client,  you  know,  Mr.  Slowcome, 
and — very  important  case — delicate  matter  ; 
you  understand." 

"Ay — ay — ay!  Mister  Mallory,  I  dare 
say  you  have  many  cases  of  a — hum — de — 
li — cate  description  ;"  and  old  Slow  nodded 
his  chin  and  his  gold  eyeglasses  and  his 
bald  round  head  up  and  down  with  the  slow, 
regular  motion  of  the  piston-rod  of  a  steam- 
engine. 

"  Not  such  as  brings  me  here  to-day 
though.  Mis— ter  Slow— come,"  said  Mal- 
lory, winking  at  that  outraged  old  gentleman. 
"  I  do  not  wish  to  be  abrupt,  nor  to  dis- 
tress you  more  than  is  inevitable, — in — evi- 
table,  I  am  sorry  to  say  ;  but  I  may  mention 
at  once  that  my  business  is  of  a  nature  calcu- 
lated to  be  disagreeable  to  you." 

"  Ay, — ay, — ay,"  said  old  Slow,  with- 
out a  shadow  of  variation  in  his  tone  or  man- 
ner. "  And  what  may  the  disagreeable 
business  be,  Mr.  Mallory  ?  "  he  added,  nurs- 
ing his  leg  with  infinite  complacency  ? 

"  I  believe  your  firm  are  solicitors  to  the 
Lindisfi\rns,  Mr.  Siowcome?  " 

"  Any  business  matters  touching  ^Ir.  Lin- 
disfixrn,  of  Lindisfarn  Chase,  may  with  pro- 
priety be  communicated  to  me,  I\Ir.  Mallory, 
and  shall  receive  my  best  attention." 

"  If  I  am  not  misinformed,  I  may  con- 
sider you  as  the  legal  friend  of  Dr.  Lindisfarn, 
of  the  Close,  also?  " 

"  You  may  consider  me  as  perfectly  ready 
to  hear  anything  which  it  may  be  useful  foi 
my  good  friend,  Dr.  Lindisfarn,  that  I  should 


210 

hear,"  said  the  old  man,  with  an  appearance 
of  perfect  nonchalance,  though  in  fact  he  was 
observing  his  visitor's  face  all  the  time  with 
the  keenest  scrutiny. 

"  The  Lindisfarn  estates  —  magnificent 
property  it  is,  Mr.  Slowcome  —  were  en- 
tailed, I  believe,  by  the  late  Oliver  Lindis- 
farn, Esq.,  the  father  of  the  present  pos 
sessor,  on  the  issue  male  of  his  eldest  son 
Oliver,  and  failing  such  issue,  on  the  issue 
male  of  his  younger  son,  Theophilus  ;  failing 
such  issue  also,  the  daughters  of  the  elder 
son  become  seised  in  tail.  I  believe  I  a; 
correct  in  stating  such  to  have  been  the  di 
position?  "  said  Mr.  Mallory,  pausing  for  a 
reply. 

"  Very  possibly  it  may  have  been.  I  can- 
not pretend  to  carry  all  the  dispositions  rul- 
ing the  descent  of  half  the  estates  in  Sill- 
shire  in  my  head,  Mr.  Mallory.  It  would 
be  too  much  to  expect,  you  know, — really 
altogether  too  much.  And  it  would  be  very 
easy  to  look  into  the  matter, — if  anybody 
authorized  or  justified  in  making  the  inquiry 
were  to  ask  for  information." 

"  Quite  so,  Mr.  Slowcome,  quite  so.  I  ad- 
mire caution  myself,  Mr.  Slowcome.  There 
is  nothing  like  it !  " 

"Well,  sir?" 

"  Well,  sir,  Mr.  Oliver  Lindisfarn  has 
no  sons,  lie  has  two  daughters.  Dr.  The- 
ophilus Lindisfarn  had  a  son,  Julian,  who, 
under  his  grandfather's  will,  be  came  heir  in 
tail  to  the  estates.  I  believe  that  even  you, 
Mr.  Slowcome,  will  have  no  difficulty  in  ad- 
mitting the  facts  so  far?  " 

"Well,  sir?" 

"  Julian  Lindisfarn,  the  son  of  Dr.  Lindis- 
farn, of  the  Close,  some  ten  years  or  so  ago, 
left  Silverton,  under  circumstances  which  it 
is  not  now  necessary  to  speak  of  more  par- 
ticularly, and  was  understood  to  have  after- 
ward died  in  America." 

"Well,  sir?" 

"  The  facts  as  I  have  stated  them  are  of 
public  notoriety.  The  heir  in  tail  died  ;  the 
daughters  of  the  elder  brother  became  heir- 
esses to  the  estates.  Nothing  clearer  or 
more  simple  !  But  what  should  you  say, 
Mr.  Slowcome,  if  I  were  to  tell  you  that  Ju- 
lian Lindisfarn  did  not  die  In  America?  " 

"  I  am  surprised,  Mr.  Mallory,  that  a  gen- 
tleman of  your  experience  should  put  such  a 
question  to  me  !  "  said  old  Slow,  leaning  his 
bead  on  one  side,  and  smiling  pleasantly  and 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


tranquilly  at  his  visitor,  "  Surely,  it  must 
occur  to  you,"  he  continued,  speaking  very 
leisurely,  "  that  I  should  say  nothing  at  all, 
not  being  called  upon  to  do  so, — not  being 
called  on,  you  see,  JMr.  Mallory." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Slowcome,  sa?/ nothing  at  all. 
I  don't  want  you  to  say  anything.  I  give  you 
the  information,  free,  gratis,  for  nothing.  I 
tell  you  that  Julian  Lindisfarn  did  not  die 
in  America.  He  was  supposed  to  have  been 
killed  by  the  Indians.  He  was  nearly  killed, 
— but  not  quite." 

Mr.  Slowcome  bowed  in  return  for  this 
free,  gratis  communication,  but  said  noth- 
ing. 

"  Do  you  feel  called  upon,  Mr.  Slowcome, 
may  I  ask,  to  pay  any  attention  to  the  state- 
ment I  have  made  ?  " 

"  Well,  really,  Mr.  Mallory,  I  cannot  say 
that  I  do  ;  to  speak  quite  frankly,  I  do  not 
see  that  I  am  called  on  to  pay  any  attention 
to  it." 

It  was  by  th*s  time  much  too  late  for  Mr. 
Slowcome,  by  any  possibility,  to  reach  Ar- 
cady  Lodge,  where  Mrs.  and  the  three  Misses 
Slowcome  were  discontentedly  coming  to  the 
conclusion  that  they  must  sit  down  to  table 
without  papa  again,  in  time  for  his  dinner. 
But  he  did  not  on  that  account  show  the 
slightest  symptomiof  impatience,  or  even  ac- 
celerate his  own  part'Of  the  interview,  either 
in  matter  or  manner,  one  jot. 

"  And  yet,"  pursued  Mallory,  "  the  fact 
would  be  a  somewhat  important  one  to  your 
clients  at  the  Chase,  and  not  less  so  to  those 
in  the  Close." 

"  That  is  perfectly  true,  Mr.  Mallory ; 
the  facts  you  speak  of  would  undoubtedly 
have  important  consequences,  if  authenticated 
— if  authenticated,  you  know,  Mr.  Mallory." 

"  Oh,  there  will  be  no  difficulty  about 
that ! — authentication  enough,  and  to  spare. 
Julian  Lindisfarn  was  alive  at  Sillmouth,  a 
few  days  ago. ' ' 

"  If  Julian  Lindisfarn  be  really,  as  you 
state,  alive,  in  spite  of  the  very  great  im- 
probability that  he  should  have,  dui-ing  all 
this  time,  allowed  his  family  to  suppose  him 
dead,  and  if  he  can  prove  his  identity  to  the 
satisfaction  of  a  jury,  the  young  ladies  at 
the  Chase  would  consequently  not  be  the 
heirs  to  the  property." 

"  And  what  if  I  were  further  to  tell  you, 
Mr.  Slowcome,  that  although  Julian  Lindis- 
farn was  alive,  and  at  Sillmouth, — and  I  am  in 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


a  position  to  prove  these  facts  beyond  the 
possibility  of  doubt  or  cavil, — what,  I  say 
if  I  were  further  to  tell  you,  that  he  is  now 
dead?" 

"  The  latter  statement  would,  I  should 
imagine,  so  far  diminish  the  importance  of 
the  former  as  to  make  it  hardly  worth  while 
inquii'ing  whether  it  could  be  authenticated 
or  not.  The  young  ladies  at  Lindisfarn 
would  be  heiresses  to  the  property,  as  they 
have  always  been  supposed  to  be  ;  and  it 
would  apparently  matter  very  little,  at  what 
precise  date  they  became  such,"  said  Slow- 
come,  a  little  thrown  off  his  guard  by  the 
prospect,  unexpectedly  thus  hung  out  to  him 
for  a  moment,  that,  after  all,  there  was  no 
coming  trouble  to  be  feared. 

"  Now  you  must  forgive  me,  Slowcome,  if 
I  say  that  I  am  astonished  that  you,  of  all 
men  in  the  world,  should  jump  at  a  conclu- 
sion in  that  way  !  If  it  had  been  the  young 
gent  who  opened  the  door  of  your  office  to 
me  just  now — but,  really,  for'  a  gentleman 
of  your  experience  " — 

"  ]\Iay  I  ask  what  is  the  conclusion  I  have 
jumped  at,  Mister  Mallory?  "  said  old  Slow, 
as  pla'cidly  as  ever,  but  with  a  very  marked 
emphasis  on  the  "  Mister,"  intended  to  re- 
buke the  Sillmouth  attorney  for  venturing  to 
address  him  as  "  Slowcome." 

Mr.  !Mallory  perceived  and  perfectly  well 
understood  the  hint.  "  Very  good,"  thought 
he  to  himself;  "  it  is  all  very  well  Mr.  Slow- 
come ;  but  we'll  come  a  little  nearer  to  a 
level,  perhaps,  before  I  have  done." 

"  Why,  you  have  jumped  at  this  conclu- 
Bion,  Mr.  Slowcome,"  said  he,  in  reply  to  the 
old  gentleman's  last  words, — "  that  if  Julian 
Lindisfarn  died  a  short  time  since,  it  puts 
matters  into  the  same  position  as  if  he  had 
died  years  ago.  Suppose  he  has  left  heirs  ? 
How  about  that,  Mr.  Slowcome?  " 

"  It  is  true  that  for  the  moment  I  had  lost 
eight  of  that  contingency.  But  really,  Mr. 
Mallory,  this  mere  gossip,  though  exceed- 
ingly agreeable,  I  am  sure,  as  gossip,  is  so 
unimportant  in  any  more  serious  point  of 
view  that  one  may  well  be  excused  for  not 
bringing  one's  legal  wits  to  bear  upon  it. 
No  doubt,  again,  if  Julian  Lindisfarn  has 
left  an  heir  male,  legitimate  and  capable  of 
being  undisputably  authenticated  as  such, 
that  heir  would  inherit  the  Lindisfarn  prop- 
erty." 

"  The  fact  is,  Mr.   Slowcome,  though  I 


211 

could  not  refrain  from  being  down  upon 
you  for  making  such  an  oversight,  it  would 
have  come  to  the  same  thing  whether  Julian 
Lindisfarn  had  died  in  America  years  a^-o,  or 
when  he  did.  lie  has  left  a  son  born  before 
he  left  this  country  for  America." 

"  A  son  born  in  wedlock,  Mr.  Mallory?  " 

"  Of  course.  I  should  not  be  here  to  p;"ve 
you  and  myself  trouble  by  talking  of  an  ille- 
gitimate child." 

"  Am  I  to  understand,  then,  that  you 
come  to  me,  Mr.  Mallory,  as  the  legal  rep- 
resentative of  the  child  in  question,  and 
that  you  are  prepared  to  put  forward  a 
claim  to  the  Lindisfarn  property  on  his  be- 
half? " 

"  You  could  not  have  stated  the  case  more 
accurately,  Mr.  Slowcome,  if  you  had  tried 
for  an  hour  !  That  is  exactly  it.  I  come  to 
make,  and  in  due  course  to  establish,  the 
claim  of  Julian  Lindisfarn,  an  infant,  son 
of  Julian  Lindisfarn,  formerly  of  the  Close 
in  Silverton,  and  of  Barbara  Mallory,  his 
lawful  wife,  to  be  declared  heir-at-law  to  the 
lands  and  hereditaments  of  Lindisfarn." 

"  Son  of  Julian  Lindisfarn  and  of  Bar- 
bara Mallory,  you  say,  Mr.  Mallory.  Any 
relative,  may  I  ask?  "  said  Slowcome,  in  the 
most  indifferent  manner  in  the  world,  but 
shooting  a  sharp  glance  at  the  provincial 
lawyer  from  under  his  eyebrows  as  he  spoke. 

"  Yes  ;  Barbara  Lindisfarn,  formerly  Bar- 
bara Mallory,  the  widow  of  the  late,  and 
mother  of  the  present,  heir  to  the  property, 
is  my  sister.  But  as  that  fact  is  wholly  un- 
essential  to  the  matter  in  hand  I  did  not 
think  it  necessary  to  trouble  you  with  it." 

"  Nay,  it  is  one  of  the  many  facts  that 
may  perhaps— ma?/,  you  know— be  felt  to 
have  a  bearing  in  the  case,  when  it  goes 
before  a  jury.  Miss  Mallory,  your  sister, 
was  a  native  of  Chewton  in  the  Moor,  if  I 
mistake  not?  " 

"  Yes,  she  was,  though  I  do  not  see  what 
that  has  to  do  with  the  matter  in  hand  any 
more  than  her  being  my  sister  has." 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all !  Only  it  seems  to 
me  as  if  I  could  remember  having  heard 
something  years  ago  about  that  unfortunate 
young  man  in  connection  with  Chewton  in 
the  Moor.  Yes,  surely,  surely,  it  was  at 
Chewton  in  the  Moor  !  " 

"  It  was  at  Chewton  in  the  Moor  that 
Julian  Lindisfarn  met  with  Barbara  Mal- 
lory, if  you  mean  that,— at  Cliewton  in  the 


212 

Moor  that  he  was  married  to  her,  and  at 
Chewton  in  the  Moor  that  his  son  was 
born." 

"  Ay,  ay,  ay,  ay  !  Born  subsequently  to 
the  marriage,  of  course?"  said  old  Slow, 
with  a  very  shrewd  look  out  of  the  corner 
of  his  eye  at  the  other. 

"  Subsequently  to  the  marriage !  Of 
course.  Why,  what  the  devil  do  you 
mean   to   insinuate,   Mr.    Slowcome?  " 

"  I  insinuate  !  Oh,  dear,  me,  I  never  in- 
sinuated anything  in  my  life  !  When  I 
don't  make  a  statement,  I  ask  a  question. 
I  only  mean  to  ask  a  question  for  informa- 
tion's sake,  you  know." 

"  All  right,  Mr.  Slowcome ;  and  I  am 
happy  to  be  able  to  give  you  the  informa- 
tion you  wish.  Yes,  the  child,  Julian  Lin- 
disfarn,  was  born  in  due  time  and  season,  so 
as  to  entitle  him  as  fully  to  the  name  as  he  is 
entitled  to  the  estates  of  Lindisfarn." 

"  And  now  Julian  Lindisfarn,  the  father, 
is  truly  and  certainly  dead,  at  last,  you  say, 
Mr.  Mallory." 

"  Yes  ;  he  died  on  the  night  of  the  twen- 
tieth of  this  month,  at  sea ;  and  his  death 
can  be  proved  by  several  eye-witnesses  of 
it." 

"  Have  you  any  objection  to  say  under 
what  circumstances  it  took  place?  " 

"  None  in  the  world,  my  dear  sir,  not  the 
least  in  the  world,  if  the  press  of  business, 
and  the  value  of  your  precious  time,  which 
you  were  speaking  of  just  now,  will  allow 
you  leisure  to  listen  to  such  matters." 

"  Well,  I  can  mostly  find  time  for  doing 
what  has  to  be  done,  Mr.  Mallory.  I  am 
naturally  interested,  you  know,  in  the  fate 
of  that  poor  young  man,  whom  I  can  remem- 
ber as  handsome  a  lad  as  I  ever  saw.  His 
father  is  an  old  and  valued  friend  of  mine. 
And  then,  you  know  we  are  not  engaged  in 
business, — mere  gossip, — mere  idle  chat,  you 
know.  Of  course,  when  we  come  to  talk  of 
these  things  in  earnest,  we  must  look  into 
documents,— do — cu — ments,  ]Mr. INIallory , — 
which  alone  are  of  any  avail  in  such  matters. 
x\nd  how  did  the  poor  young  man  come  to 
his  death?  On  the  twentieth — dear  me! 
Only  the  other  day." 

"  Only  the  other  day,  Mr.  Slowcome.  Ay  ! 
we  are  here  to-day,  and  gone  to-morrow,  as 
the  saying  is.  And  that  was  specially  his 
case,  poor  fellow,  as  one  may  say,  for  he 
was, as  I  told  you, at  Sillmouth,  and,  it  seems. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


had  been  ill,  or  wounded  in  some  fray,  or 
something  of  the  kind,  and  so  had  been  pre- 
vented from  returning  to  France,  whence,  as 
I  am  given  to  understand,  he  had  come.  I 
have  not  troubled  myself  to  obtain  any  accu- 
rate information  upon  all  these  points,  see- 
ing that  they  do  not  in  any  way  bear  on  the 
important  facts  of  the  matter.  What  is  cer- 
tain is  that  the  unfortunate  young  man  en- 
gaged a  passage  for  himself,  his  wife,  and 
child,  by  a  vessel  called  the  Saucy  Sally,  of 
which  one  Hiram  Pendleton  was  master  and 
owner  ;  that  he  sailed  in  her  on  the  evening 
of  the  twentieth,  in  company  with  Mrs.  Lin- 
disfarn and  their  child  ;  and  that  when  off 
the  coast  of  France  on  that  night, — or  rather 
on  the  following  morning — it  being  very  dark 
and  foggy  at  the  time,  the  Saucy  Sally  was 
run  down  by  a  larger  vessel,  the  Deux  Maries 
of  Dunkirk,  in  which  accident  the  passenger 
Julian  Lindisfarn,  as  well  as  two  others  of 
the  crew,  perished.  The  body  of  one  of  the 
two  sailors  and  that  of  Mr.  Lindisfarn  were 
recovered,  and  identified  ;  of  which  due  cer- 
tificates and  vouchers  can  be  furnished  by 
the  French  authorities  ;  so  that  there  is  no 
doubt  of  his  being  dead  this  time,  beyond  the 
possibility  of  a  mistake." 

"  And  the  lady  who  was  with  him,  and 
the  child?  "  asked  Mr.  Slowcome,  who  had 
listened  to  the  above  statement  with  more 
evident  attention  and  interest  than  he  had 
previously  condescended  to  bestow  upon  Mr. 
Mallory 's  communications. 

"The  mother  and  the  child  were  both 
saved  by  the  exertions  of  Hiram  Pendleton, 
the  owner  and  skipper  of  the  unlucky  craft. 
He  succeeded  in  placing  both  of  them  on  the 
deck  of  the  French  vessel,  and  subsequently 
in  saving  himself  in  the  same  manner ;  though 
it  seems  by  all  accounts  to  have  been  touch 
and  go  with  him." 

"  Hiram  Pendleton  ;  ay,  ay,  ay,  ay  !  So 
it  was  Hiram  Pendleton  who  saved  the  moth 
er  and  child?  "  said  old  Slow  musingly. 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  and  at  great  risk  of  his 
own  life  too,  so  it  would  seem." 

"  And  lost  his  vessel  ;  dear,  dear,  dear  !  " 
rejoined  Slowcome,  still  musing. 

"  Yes,  saved  his  passengers,  and  lost  his 
ship.  I  suppose  the  loss  will  make  Hiram 
Pendleton  something  like  a  ruined  man." 

"I  have  heard,  I  think,  that  he  and  the 
king's  revenue  officers  were  sometimes  apt  to 
differ  in  their  views  of  things  in  general." 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"  Maybe  so,  Mr.  Slowcome.  I  don't,  know 
much  of  him,  and  nothing  of  his  aflairs." 

"  No,  no,  of  course  not.  It  is  not  likely 
you  should.  IIow  should  you,  Mr.  Mallory? 
But  now,  as  to  this  extraordinary  and  really 
very  interesting  story,  which  you  have  been 
telling  me,  perhaps  it  would  suit  you  to  men- 
tion when  the  do — cu — ments  will  be  forth- 
coming. Of  course  without  seeing  the  do — 
cu — ments  I  should  not  be  justified  in  giving 
the  matter  any  serious  attention  at  all." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Slowcome,  as  far  as  satisfying 
you  that  you  would  not  be  justified  in  omit- 
ting to  give  the  matter  your  most  serious  and 
immediate  attention,  and  to  lay  the  circum- 
stances at  once  before  your  clients, — as  far  as 
that  goes,  I  think  I  may  be  able  to  do  that 
before  we  bring  this  sitting  to  a  conclusion. 
Allow  me  to  call  your  attention,  sir,  to  these 
two  documents,  copies,  you  will  observe  ;  I 
do  not  carry  the  originals  about  in  my  poc- 
ket, as  you  will  easily  understand  ;  but  they 
can  and  will  be  produced  in  due  time  and 
place  ;  "  and  the  Sillmouth  attorney  drew 
from  the  breast-pocket  of  his  very  unpro- 
fessional-looking cut-away  green  coat,  a 
pocket-book,  from  which  he  selected  from 
among  several  other  papers,  two  small  strips. 
"The  first,"  continued  be,  with  glib  satis- 
faction, "  is,  you  will  observe,  a  copy  of  the 
marriage  certificate  of  Barbara  Mallory  with 
Julian  Lindisfarn,  Esquire,  duly  extracted 
from  the  register  of  Chewton  Church,  by  the 
Rev.  Charles  Mellish,  who  performed  the 
ceremony,  and  attested  under  his  hand." 

"  Ay,  ay,  ay,  ay  !  I  see,  yes.  The  paper 
seams  to  be  what  you  state  ;  and  the  oth- 
er?" 

"  The  other  is  a  copy  of  certain  affidavits 
duly  made  and  attested,  sworn  by  the  med- 
ical man  and  nurse,  who  attended  Mrs.  Lin- 
disfarn in  her  confinement,  serving  to  remove 
any  doubt  which  might  ai'ise  respecting  the 
date  of  the  child's  birth." 

"  Would  it  not  be  simpler  and  more  sat- 
isfactory to  produce  the  baptismal  register  ?  ' ' 
said  Mr.  Slowcome,  while  closely  examining 
the  papers  submitted  to  him. 

"  Simpler,  certainly,  it  would  be,"  return- 
ed Mr.  Mallory  ;  "  but  I  do  not  see  that  it 
would  be  at  all  more  satisfactory.  But,  the 
fact  is,  we  have  been  driven  to  this  mode  of 
proof  by  the  impossibility  of  finding  any  reg- 
ister at  Chewton." 


213 

'<  Ay,  indeed  !  impossibility  of  finding  any 
register  at  Chewton?"  rejoined  old  Slow, 
with  the  same  appearance  of  almost  carelee.-! 
indifi'erence  which  he  had  hitherto  maintain- 
ed ;  but  with  the  shrewd  gleam  of  awakened 
interest  in  his  eye,  which  did  not  escape  the 
practised  observation  of  his  sharp  companion. 
"  May  I  ask  if  the  other  document  has  been 
confronted  with  the  original  record  in  the 
register?  " 

"  No  such  register  can  be  found  at  Chew- 
ton, Mr.  Slowcome,"  returned  Mallory.  "No 
doubt  the  loss  of  the  baptismal  register,  and 
that  of  the  marriage  register,  is  the  loss  of 
one  and  the  same  volume.  When  old  Mel- 
lish, the  late  curate,  died,  about  eight  years 
ago,  no  register  could  be  found.  I  don't 
know  whether  you  are  at  all  aware,  Mr.  Slow- 
come, what  sort  of  a  person  Mr.  Mellish  was 
— the  strangest  creature  ! — about  as  much 
like  one  of  your  respectable  city  clergy  here 
as  a  tame  pigeon  in  one  of  your  town  dove- 
cots is  like  a  woodpigeon.  He  had  lived  all 
alone  there  out  in  the  Moor,  without  wife  or 
child,  all  his  life,  till  he  was  as  wild  as  the 
wildest  of  the  Moorfolk.  Things  went  on  in 
a  queer  way  in  his  parish.  If  the  Saturday 
night's  carouse  went  too  far  into  the  small 
hours  of  the  Sunday  morning,  the  inhabitants 
were  not  so  unreasonable  as  to  expect  any 
morning  service,  and  waited  very  patiently 
till  the  Sunday  afternoon  ;  and  then  my  fa- 
ther— my  father  was  and  still  is  clerk  of 
Chewton,  Mr.  Slowcome — my  father  used  to 
go  and  see  what  condition  the  parson  was  in, 
before  he  rang  the  bell.  Oh,  it  was  a  queer 
place,  was  Chewton  in  the  Moor,  in  old  Mel- 
lish's  time !  It  was  thought  that  he  had 
probably  kept  the  registers  at  his  own  resi- 
dence, and  every  search  was  made,  but  all  to 
no  purpose.  Births  and  marriages  don't  take 
place  in  that  small  population — only  a  few 
hundreds,  Mr.  Slowcome  ! — so  often  as  to 
cause  the  register  to  be  very  constantly  need- 
ed, you  know." 

"Ay,  ay,  ay  !  a  very  remarkable  state  of 
things.  And  your  good  father  was  parish 
clerk  during  the  curacy  of  this  exemplary 
gentleman,  Mr.  Mallory?  " 

"  He  was,  Jlr.  Slowcome  ;  and  has  been 
so,  and  is  so  still,  under  his  successor,  a  very 
diflferent  sort  of  a  man.  If  matters  did  not 
go  on  worse  than  they  did  in  old  Mellish'a 
days,  it  was  mainly  due  to  my  father,  who 


214 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


was  far  more  fitted  to  be  the  parson,  in  every 
respect,  than  the  drunken  old  curate,  though 
I  say  it  who  should  not,  Mr.  Slowcome." 

"  Nay,  nay  !  I  do  not  see  any  reason  why 
you  should  not  say  so,  since  such  was  the 
case.  But  I  suppose  that  even  at  Chewton 
it  was  the  custom  for  a  marriage  to  be  sol- 
emnized before  witnesses,  Mr.  Mallory  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  should  not  wonder  if  that  wao 
very  much  as  it  happened.  With  a  parson 
who  saw  double,  one  witness  would  easily  do 
for  two,  you  know  ;  he,  he,  he  ! — but,  how- 
ever, there  were  two  witnesses  to  my  sister's 
marriage,  as  you  will  see  by  reference  to  the 
copy  before  you.  My  father  took  care  that 
it  was  all  right  in  her  case,  you  may  swear." 

"  Ay,  ay,  ay,  ay!  I  see,  I  see — '  James 
MartinscombCjOf  the  Back  Lane,  Sillmouth,' 
and  '  Benjamin  Brandreth,  of  Chew  Haven.' 
These  witnesses,  I  suppose,  will  be  forthcom- 
ing at  need,  Mr.  Mallory?  " 

"  Martinscombe  will  not,  certainly,  poor 
fellow.  He  was  a  friend  of  mine,  Mr.  Slow- 
come,  and  is  since  dead.  Of  Brandreth  we 
have  not  been  able  to  hear  anything.  He 
•was  a  shipowner  and  master,  of  Chew  Haven ; 
and,  I  believe,  a  friend  of  my  father's.  He 
sailed,  it  seems,  from  Chew  Haven,  some  five 
or  six  years  ago,  and  has  not  been  heard  of 
since." 

"  Dear  me  !  What,  neither  he,  nor  his 
ship,  nor  any  of  his  crew  ?  Are  the  ship- 
owners of  Chew  Haven  (I  don't  know  what 
sort  of  a  place  it  is)  apt  to  disappear  in  that 
way  ?  " 

•'  Chew  Haven  is  a  poor  little  place  enough, 
— just  a  little  bit  of  a  fishing  village,  at  the 
*nouth  of  the  creek  that  runs  down  ofi"  the 
Moor  past  Chewton.  And,  I  take  it,  the  fact 
was,  that  Brandreth  was  in  reduced  circum- 
stances. I  don't  know  that  he  was  on  a  ves- 
sel of  his  own  when  he  left  Chew  Haven  and 
came  back  no  more.  No.  It  would  have  been 
satisfactory  to  find  the  witnesses,  no  doubt. 
But  witnesses  wont  live  forever,  no  more 
than  other  men.  And  failing  the  living  men, 
I  need  not  tell  you,  Mr.  Slowcome,  that  their 
signature  to  the  register  is  as  good  evidence 
as  if  they  were  to  rise  from  the  grave  to  speak 
it." 

"  No  doubt,  no  doubt,  Mr.  Mallory.  But 
we  have  not  got  their  signature  to  the  reg- 
ister,— only  the  parson's  copy  of  it  — and  I 
have  seen  only  the  copy  of  that,  you  know." 

"  The  curate's  extract  from  the  register, 


duly  made,  signed,  and  certified  in  proper 
form,  will  be  forthcoming  in  due  time,  Mr. 
Slowcome,  and  that  is  undeniable  evidence, 
as  you  are  well  aware.  Old  Mellish's  hand- 
writing was  a  very  peculiar  one  ;  and  abun- 
dant evidence  may  be  got  as  to  that  point." 

"Well,  Mr.  Mallory,"  said  Slowcome, 
suddenly,  after  a  short  pause,  during  which 
he  had  all  the  appearance  of  being  on  the 
point  of  dropping  off  to  sleep,  but  was,  in 
fact,  deeply  meditating  the  points  of  thestate- 
ment  that  had  been  made  to  him, — "well, 
Mr.  Mallory,  of  course,  I  can  say  nothing  to 
all  this.  You  allege  a  marriage  between  the 
late  Julian  Lindisfarn,  recently  deceased,  un- 
der such  painful  circumstances,  and  your  sis- 
ter, Miss  Barbara  Mallory.  Of  course,  every 
part  of  the  evidence  of  such  a  statement  must 
be  expected  to  be  subjected  to  the  severest 
possible  scrutiny  ;  of  course,  you  are  as  much 
aware  of  that  as  I  can  be.  Of  course,  we 
say  nothing.  You  will  take  such  steps  as 
seem  good  to  you  ;  and,  in  the  mean  time,  I 
am  much  obliged  to  you  for  favoring  me 
with  this  visit.  Good-morning,  Mr.  Mallory." 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Slowcome.  Of 
course  it  would  be  most  agreeable  and  best 
for  all  the  parties  concerned,  if  such  a  fam- 
ily afiair  could  be  settled  quietly  and  amica- 
bly,— of  course  it  would.  But  we  are  ready 
for  war  or  peace,  whichever  your  clients  may 
decide." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Mallory  ;  of  course,  in 
reply  to  any  such  observation,  I  can  say  noth- 
ing,—absolutely  nothing,  upon  the  present 
occasion.  Your  statement  shall  receive  all 
consideration,  and  the  family  wUl  decide  on 
the  course  to  be  pursued.  Good-morning, 
Mr.  Mallory." 

And  so  the  Sillmouth  attorney  bowed  him- 
self out,  to  the  infinite  relief  of  !Mr.  Bob 
Scott,  who  had  begun  to  think  that,  if 
Slowcome  and  Sligo  intended  to  keep  their 
office  open  day  and  night,  he  had  better  look 
out  for  another  service. 

CHAPTER    XXXIX. 
MR.    FALCONER  IS  ALARSIED. 

When  his  visitor  was  gone,  Mr.  Slowcome 
sat  still  in  his  Windsor  chair,  apparently  in 
deep  meditation,  so  long,  that  the  hardly 
used  Bob  Scott  really  began  to  give  it  up  as  a 
bad  job,  for  that  night  at  least.  At  last, 
however,  he  heard  the  old  gentleman  get  up 
from  his  chair,  and  proceed  to  put  on  his 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


great-coat.  So  he  came  out  of  the  dingy, 
prison-like  oifice.  in  which  he  was  condemn- 
ed to  pass  his  days,  and  which  he  had 
already  made  utterly  dark,  by  putting  up 
the  shutters,  so  that  he  might  lose  no  time 
in  being  olT  home  when  at  last  old  Slow 
should  think  fit  to  bring  his  day's  work 
to  an  end,  and  stood  by  the  side  of  the  hall- 
door,  ready  to  let  his  master  out,  and  to  fol- 
low him  as  soon  as  he  had  gone  half  a  dozen 
steps  from  the  door. 

But,  just  as  Mr.  Slowcome  at  last  appear- 
ed at  the  door  of  his  room,  leisurely  buttoning 
up  his  great-coat,  as  he  came  out  into  the 
hall,  Mr.  Bob  Scott  was  startled  by  another 
sharp  rap  at  the  door  close  to  him.  Spring- 
ing to  open  it,  with  the  hope  of  getting  rid 
of  the  applicant  before  old  Slow  could  catch 
sight  of  liim,  he  found  himself  in  the  wor- 
shipful presence  of  Mr.  Falconer,  the  banker. 

Bob  Scotfs  face  fell,  and  the  sharp,  angry 
"  After  office-hours  !  "  to  be  accompanied  by 
a  slamming- to  of  the  door  in  the  new-comer's 
face,  died  away  upon  his  lips. 

"Is  Mr.  Slowcome  within?"  said  the 
banker. 

"Yes,  sii',  ^e's  within,"  said  Bob,  with  a 
deep  sigh  ;  "  but  I  think,  sir,  he  has  put  his 
great-coat  on  to  go.  It's  long  past  office- 
hours,  you  know,  sir.  But  we  don't  count 
hours  here,  oh,  dear,  no,  nothing  of  the 
kind!" 

"  Well,  ask  Mr.  Slowcome  if  he  will  allow 
me  to  speak  to  him,  for  just  one  minute ;  I 
wont  keep  him  a  minute." 

"  Just  one  minute,"  Bob  muttered  to  him- 
self, as  he  turned  away  to  execute  the 
banker's  behest, — "  just  one  minute  !  As  if 
old  Slow  could  say,  '  How  do  you  do?'  under 
five  minutes.  It  takes  him  that  to  open  his 
blessed  old  easy-going  mouth." 

"  Walk  in,  please,  sir.  Mr.  Slowcome  has 
got  his  gTcat-coat  on,  sir  ;  but  he'll  be  happy 
to  see  you,"  added  the  despondent  youth,  re- 
turning into  the  hall. 

"  Only  one  Avord,  my  dear  Slowcome,  one 
word  !  Xo,  I  wont  sit  down,  thank  you  ;  I 
only  just  looked  in  to  ask  you  how  we  were 
getting  on  ?  The  young  folks  are  growing 
desperately  impatient." 

"Ay,  ay,  ay!  I  suppose  so,  I  suppose 
60.  Well,  we  were  all  young  once.  But, 
Mr.   Falconer,"  and  old  Slow  deliberately 


215 

stepped  across  the  room  and  closed  the  door, 
which  the  ))ankcr,  meaning  only  to  say  one 
hurried  word,  had  not  shut  behind  him,  "  I 
am  very  glad  you  happened  to  look  in ;  for  I 
have  just  this  instant  had  a  very  strange  visit, 
which  may  very  possibly — possibly,  I  say — 
cause  some  little  delay  in  bringing  this  mat- 
ter to  a  satisfactory  conclusion." 

"Delay!"  replied  the  banker,  evidently 
ill  at  ease ;  "  why,  there  is  nothing  wrong,  I 
hope, — nothing  " — 

"  Well !  that  we  shall  see  ;  I  hope  not,  I 
sincerely  hope  not ;  but  " — 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  my  dear  sir,  what  is 
it  ?     Pray  speak  out . " 

"  Well,  yes,  to  you.  Falconer ;  but  it  is  a 
delicate  matter.  However,  in  your  position 
— Lindisfarn  settles,  you  know,  half  the 
property  on  Miss  Margaret." 

"  Yes,  a  very  proper  settlement,  surely?  " 

"Oh,  very,  very, — if — he  have  the  power 
to  make  it !  "  said  the  old  lawyer,  dropping 
his  words  out,  one  after  the  other,  like  the 
ominous  drop,  drop  of  heavy  blood-drops  on 
a  pavement. 

"Power  to  make  it — Lindisfarn?  And 
you  have  just  had  a  strange  visit  ?  What  is 
it  ?    What  difficulty  or  doubt  can  there  be?  " 

"  I  suppose  you  know  the  history  of  the 
entail  of  the  property?  Male  heir  of  Oliver, 
eldest  son ; — failure  of  male  issue  there,  male 
heir  of  Theophilus,  younger  son ;  failing 
male  issue  there,  return  to  female  children  of 
eldest  brother." 

"  Yes,  yes,  of  course  !  I  know  all  that ; 
all  the  country  knows  it." 

"  Just  so,  just  so.  You  no  doubt  know  also 
the  circumstances  under  which  Dr.  Theophi- 
lus Lindisfarn,  having  had  a  son,  became 
childless  ;  in  consequence  of  which  event,  the 
estates  reverted  to  the  daughters  of  the  elder 
brother?" 

"To  be  sure  I  do ;  nobody  better.  I  re- 
member all  the  circumstances  as  well  as  if 
they  had  happened  yesterday.  I  have  reason 
to,  by  George !  Bat  the  poor  fellow  died  ;  and 
there  is  an  end  of  that — killed  in  America  by 
the  savages.  A  great  mercy,  too,  for  all 
parties  concerned,  between  you  and  me,  Mr. 
Slowcome.  Quite  a  providential  arrange- 
ment !  " 

"  Oh  !  quite  so — if  it  had  been  carried  out. 
But  what  if  Providence  neglected  that  means 


216 

of  making  all  snug  and  comfortable.  Sup- 
pose the  story  of  the  murder  by  the  Indians 
was  all  false  ?  ' ' 

"  What!  you  don't  mean  to  say" — stam- 
mered the  banker,  turning  pale. 

"  Yes,  I  do;  just  so,  just  that,"  said  old 
Slow,  making  a  balancing  piston-rod  of  his 
chin  and  pigtail ;  "at  least,"  he  added, 
"  that  is  what  I  have  been  told  by  a  man 
who  left  this  office  not  two  minutes  before 
you  entered  it." 

"  Good  Heavens  !  That  man  alive  still  I 
And  the  result,  therefore,  is,  that  the  Misses 
Lindisfarn  have  no  longer  any  claim  to  be 
their  father's  heirs  ?  " 

"  Precisely  so,  Mr.  Falconer.  That  is  the 
very  lamentable  and  unfortunate  state  of  the 
case." 

"  But  if  Julian  Lindisfarn  were  a  convicted 
felon,  Mr.  Slowcome?  " 

"  But  he  was  not  a  convicted  felon,  Mr. 
Falconer ;  no  proceedings  were  ever  taken 
against  him." 

"  But  it  is  not  too  late  to  do  so  !  "  cried  the 
old  banker,  eagerly,  with  an  excited  gleam  in 
his  eye. 

Old  Slow  shook  his  head  gently,  and  a 
quiet  smile  came  over  his  face,  as  he  an- 
swered,'— 

"  Wont  do,  Mr.  Falconer.  There's  no 
hope  of  disposing  of  the  difficulty  in  that 
way." 

"Why?  If  he  comes  forward  to  make 
any  claim" — said  the  other,  eagerly. 

"  You  might  put  salt  on  his  tail ;  but  he 
has  beat  us,  jNIr.  Falconer.  He  is  dead  now  ; 
though  he  did  not  die  in  America." 

"  But  then — if  I  understand  the  matter  at 
all,  Slowcome,  the  girls  become  the  heiresses 
after  all." 

"  You  are  in  such  a  hurry.  Falconer.  One 
is  sure  to  run  one's  head  into  some  mistake, 
when  one  suffers  one's  self  to  be  hurried.  That 
is  why  I  never  do.  If  Julian  Lindisfarn  had 
died  without  legitimate  issue,  it  would  have 
been  as  you  state  ;  but  that,  as  I  am  told,  is 
not  the  case.  The  object  of  the  man  who 
was  here  just  now  was  to  set  up  a  claim  on 
behalf  of  a  son  of  Julian  Lindisfarn." 

"And  such  a  son  would  inherit  to  the 
ousting  of  Mr.  Lindisfarn's  daughters?  " 

"  Unquestionably  he  would  ;  there  can  be 
no  doubt  about  that  at  all,"  said  Slowcome, 
raising  his  head  and  looking  point-blank  into 
bis  companion's  face. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"  And  this  statement — or  rather  all  these 
statements,  Mr.  Slowcome — did  they  come  to 
you,  may  I  ask,  from  a  trustworthy  source, — 
from  such  a  source  as  would  lead  you  to  put 
faith  in  them?  " 

"  Ah  !  there  we  come  to  the  marrow  of 
the  question.  The  gentleman  who  was  kind 
enough  to  communicate  these  facta  to  mc  is 
— not  a — person — on  whose  unsupported 
statement  I  should  be  disposed  to  place  im- 
plicit reliance.  But  neither  is  he  one  who 
would  for  a  moment  sisppose  that  his  state- 
ment could  be  of  any  avail.  No,  he  has  got 
his  proofs, — his  documents." 

"  You  think,  then" — said  Falconer,  cursing 
in  his  heart  old  Slow's  dilatory  and  tantaliz- 
ing mode  of  dribbling  out  the  contents  of  his 
mind. 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Falconer, — for  to  you  I  have 
no  objection  whatsoever  to  give,  not  my 
opinion,  mind  ;  for  I  cannot  be  expected  to 
have  had  either  the  time  or  the  means  to 
form  an  opinion  upon  the  case  as  yet ;  but 
my  impressions,  my  merely  ■prima facie  im- 
pressions,— though  you  will  of  course  under- 
stand that  I  said  no  word  to  my  informant 
which  could  lead  him  to  infer  that  I  either 
believed  or  disbelieved  any  portion  of  his 
statement, — my  impression  is  that  it  is  true 
that  Julian  Lindisfarn  did  not  die  years  ago 
in  America,  but  that  he  did  die,  as  stated, 
the  other  day  at  sea  off  the  neighboring  coast 
of  France.  I  am  further  disposed  to  believe 
that  he  really  did  leave  a  son  behind  him, 
who  is  now  to  be  put  forward  as  the  heir-at- 
law  to  the  property." 

"  It  is  all  up,  then!"  cried  the  banker, 
throwing  up  his  hands  as  he  spoke. 

"You  are  in  such  a  hurry.  Falconer! 
You  are  making  a  most  prodigious  jump  to  a 
conclusion,  and  a  wholly  unwarrantable  one. 
I  believe,  as  I  say,  that  Julian  Lindisfarn  left 
a  son.  Did  he  leave  a  legitimate  son?  "  said 
the  lawyer,  dropping  the  words  like  minute 
guns,  and  aiming  a  poke  with  his  forefinger 
at  the  third  button  of  the  banker's  waistcoat, 
as  he  finished  them  ;  "  that  is  the  question. 
That  is  the  only  direction,  to  speak  the  plain 
fiict  frankly,  as  between  you  and  me,  in 
which  I  see  any  loophole — any  hope." 

"  But  the  child  is  stated  to  be  legitimate." 

"  Stated!  of  course  he  is  stated  to  be  legiti- 
mate. What  is  the  use  of  s^a^cmew^s.  Tliey 
have  more  than  that.  The  copy  of  a  docu- 
ment professing  to  be  an  extract  from  the 


LINDISFARN    CHASE.  217 

marriage  register,  duly  made  and  signed  by  i  nouncciucnt  in  the  utter  desperation  of  his 
the  clergyman ,  and  attesting  the  marriage  of  heart. 


Julian  Liudisfarn  and  Barbara  JNIallory,  was 
shown  to  me." 

"  Barbara  Mallory!  " 
"  And  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  the  origi- 
nal of  that  document  will  be  forthcoming. 
Also  I  have  seen  the  copies  of  affidavits 
proving  the  birth  of  the  child  at  a  due  and 
proper  period  after  the  marriage.  And  I 
have  little  doubt  but  that  the  date  of  the 
child'tf  birth  can  be  substantiated." 

"  Well,  then,  where  on  earth  do  you  see 
any  loophole  of  hope,  I  should  like  to 
know  ?  ' ' 

"  Well,  Mr.  Falconer,  it  must  have  oc- 
curred to  your  experience  to  discover  that 
every  document  is  not  always  exactly  what 
it  professes  to  be  in  every  respect.  I  do  not 
kcow.  I  cannot  say  anything.  But  there 
are  certain  circumstances  that  I  think  I 
may  call— ahem  ! — suspicious,  in  the  state- 
ment which  was  made  to  me.  The  register, 
from  which  the  extract  certifying  the  mar- 
riage professes  to  have  been  taken,  is  stated 
to  be  lost.  It  may  be  so  ;  many  registers 
have  been  lost  before  now.  Of  course  we 
shall  leave  no  stone  unturned  to  see  whether 
any  hole  can  be  picked  in  the  case  put  fo?- 
ward.  Strict  search  must  be  made  for  this 
missing  register.  The  father  of  the  woman 
said  to  have  been  married  to  young  Liudis- 
farn is,  and  has  for  many  years  been,  parish 
clerk  of  the  village  where  the  marriage  was 
celebrated, — a  rather  ugly  and  suggestive 
fact." 

"  ]Mallory,  Mallory — why,  that  is  the 
name  of  the  old  clerk  at  Chewton  in  the 
Moor,  Dr.  Lindisfarn's  parish  !  " 

"  Just  so  ;  and  the  person  who  was  with 
me  just  now,  and  who  is  getting  up  this 
case,  is  a  son  of  the  old  man,  and  brother 
of   the  so-called  Mrs.  Lindisfarn,  an  attor- 


"  Good  Heavens!  so  late?"  exclaimed 
Falconer,  turning  as  white  as  a  sheet. 

"  Oh,  it  is  no  matter,"  said  old  Slow, 
as  placidly  as  possible  ;  "  there  is  no  Imrry  ; 
there  is  time  enough  for  all  things  !  " 

"  I  beg  pardon,  my  dear  sir.  Not  another 
second  for  the  world, — a  thousand  pardons  !" 
And  to  old  Slow's  no  little  surprise  and 
perplexity,  but  to  Bob  Scott's  infinite  de- 
light, the  banker  brushed  off  in  the  great- 
est possible  hurry,  and  almost  ran  up  that 
short  portion  of  the  High  Street  which 
intervened  between  the  office  of  Slowcome 
and  Sligo,  and  the  lane  which  led  from  it 
into  that  part  of  the  Close  in  which  his 
own  residence  was  situated. 

Only  a  few  minutes  to  six  ;  Good  Heavens ! 
and  in  another  ten  minutes  his  son  would  be 
speeding,  as  fast  as  post-horses  could  carry 
him,  toward  Gretna,  to  join  himself  indisso- 
lubly  to  a  girl  not  worth  a  penny.  Heavens 
and  earth,  what  a  merciful  escape!  If  in- 
deed there  be  yet  time  to  stop  him. 

"  Gregory,  Gregory  !  "  cried  Mr.  Falconer, 
bursting  into  the  private  parlor  at  the  bank, 
where  he  knew  that  the  old  clerk  was  fortu- 
nately still  engaged  with  his  books,  and 
throwing  himself  panting  on  a  chair,  as  he 
spoke, — "  Gregory  !  Mr.  Frederick  is  going 
to  run  off  with  JMiss  Lindisfarn  from  the 
door  in  the  wall  of  her  uncle's  garden  in 
Castle  Head  Lane,  at  six  this  evening.  It 
only  wants  a  few  minutes.  Kun  for  your 
life,  and  stop  him  ;  at  all  hazards,  mind  you  ! 
Cling  to  him  if  necessary.  Tell  him  j'isu 
come  from  me  ;  and  bring  him  here  to  me. 
Mind  now,  everything  depends  on  yonr  being 
there  in  time  and  preventing  his  (itarting. 
Off  with  you  !  " 

And  that  is  why  and  how  the  elopement 
did  not  take  place,  and  Margaret  was  be- 
trayed in  the  shameful  manner  that  has  been 


ney — of  no  very  good  repute,  between  our- 
selves—at  Sillmouth.     He  tells  me  a  great  {  related 
deal — most  of   which  I  knew  very  well  be- 
fore he  was  born — of  the  careless  and  un-  chapter  xl. 
clerical  habits  of  old  Mellish,  the  late  curate                the  tidings  reach  the  chase. 
at  Chewton,  which  is  put  forward  to  account       "  Merciful  Heaven  !  "  thought  the  pant- 
for  tlie  loss  of  the  register.     If  that  register  i  ing  banker  to  himself,  as  he  sat,  exhausted 
could  only  be  found  " —                                      |  with  the  unwonted  exertion  he  had  made,  in 
"  Please,  sir,  it  only  wants  a  quarter  to  j  the  chair  into  which  he  had  thrown  himself 
six  !  "  said  Bob  Scott,  opening  the  door  of  i  while  speaking  to  Greatorex,  "  what  an  es- 
his  master's    room,   and    making  this  an-  [  cape !  what  a  marvellously  providential  es- 


218 

cape !  If  only  Gregory  Greatorex  is 
time !  But  yes,  yes,  there  is  time,  there 
is  time.  To  think  that  if  that  young  ecamp 
of  a  clerk  had  not  got  tired  of  waiting,  and 
put  his  head  into  the  room  to  say  that  it  was 
near  six  o'clock,  I  should  have  let  the  pre- 
cious moments  slip  to  a  certainty.  They 
would  have  been  off,  and  Fred  would  have 
married  a  beggar.  'Twae  a  mere  chance, 
too,  my  looking  in  at  Slowcome's,  as  I  went 
down  the  High  Street,  a  mere  chance.  How 
thankful  we  ought  to  be  to  a  mercifully  over- 
ruling Providence  !  A  beggar, — yes,  those 
poor  Lindisfiirn  girls  are  no  better, — evi- 
dently no  better.  It  is  all  very  well  for 
Sloweome  to  make  the  best  of  it,  and  talk 
about  a  loophole  and  a  hope.  Of  course, 
it  is  his  business  and  his  duty  to  do  so.  Of 
course  a  fight  on  the  subject  will  suit  his 
book ;  but  it  is  as  plain  as  a  pikestaff  that 
they  have  not  a  chance,  and  that  is  Slow- 
come's opinion  too.  A  most  wonderful  dis- 
pensation, truly.  There  goes  six  o'clock  !  " 
cried  Mr.  Falconer,  jumping  from  his  chair, 
and  going  nervously  to  the  window  of  the 
room.  "  Heaven  grant  that  Gregory  may 
have  been  in  time,  and  that  Fred  has  lis- 
tened to  reason.  Ob,  yes,  he  never  would  ! 
— but  I  should  be  very  thankful  to  have  him 
safe  here." 

And  the  old  gentleman,  with  his  hands 
plunged  into  the  pockets  of  his  superfine 
black  shorts,  kept  nervously  moving  from 
the  window  to  the  fireplace,  and  from  the 
fireplace  to  the  window,  looking  at  his  watch 
every  minute. 

«"Thank  goodness,  you  are  here,  my  dear 
boy  !  "  he  exclained,  as  Frederick  entered 
the  room  at  last,  seizing  him  by  the  hand, 
and  shaking  it  again  and  again, — "  thank 
God,  you  are  here !  Greatorex  has  done  it 
like  a  faithful  servant !  I  will  not  forget 
him.  My  boy,  what  an  escape  we  have 
had!" 

"  But  will  you  have  the  kindness  to  ex- 
plain the  meaning  of  all  this,  sir  ?  You  first 
tell  me  " — 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know,  I  know.  But,  my 
dear  boy,  such  an  extraordinary  circum- 
stance. You  shall  hear.  There  was  only 
just  time,  barely  time  to  stop  you.  A  min- 
ute or  two  more,  and  you  would  have  been 
off,  and  " — the  banker  finished  his  phrase  in 
dumb  show,  by  throwing  up  his  eyes,  hands. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


chin,  and  nether-lip,  to  heaven, — or  at  least, 
toward  the  ceiling  of  the  bank  parlor. 

"  But  I'll  be  shot  if  I  can  make  out  head 
or  tail  in  the  matter  ! "  cried  his  son. 

"  Have  a  moment's  patience  till  I  can  tell 
you,"  remonstrated  the  senior. 

"  You  yourself  put  me  up  to  going  off 
with  the  girl,  and  then  at  the  last  moment — 
Do  you  consider,  sir,  that  you  have  made  me 
behave  very  ill  to  Miss  Lindisfaru  ?" 

"  My  dear  Fred,  let  her  alone,  let  her 
alone.  Thank  Heaven,  you  have  no  need  to 
trouble  yourself  any  further  about  her  !  " 

"To  think  of  her,  poor  little  darling, 
waiting  and  waiting  there,  at  that  garden- 
door." 

"  My  dear  boy,  she  has  not  a  penny." 

"  Getting  into  a  scrape  with  her  aunt, 
most  likely  " — 

"  I  tell  you,  Fred,  she  is  a  beggar  !  " 

"  Catching  her  death  of  cold  in  that  damp 
garden  " — 

"  Don't  I  tell  you  she  has  not  a  sixpence 
in  the  world  ?  Do  you  hear  ?  Do  you 
understand  what  I  say?  Not  a  sixpence! 
And  I  have  been  mercifully  permitted  to  be- 
come cognizant  of  the  truth  in  the  most  ex- 
traordinary manner,  just  in  time, — barely  in 
time  to  save  you  from  marrying  yourself  to 
a  beggar.  Ten  minutes  more,  and  you  would 
have  been  off;  and  nothing  could  have  saved 
you." 

"  But  what  on  earth  is  the  meaning  of 
all  this  ?  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  ex- 
plain to  me  what  has  happened,  or  what 
you  have  heard  ?  ' ' 

"  Sit  down  then,  Frederick, — sit  do\vn 
quietly,  and  you  shall  hear  all.  I  am  so 
shaken  with  the  surprise,  and  my  anxiety 
about  you,  and  the  run  I  had,  that  I  am  all 
of  a  tremor.  But  once  again,  thank  God,  all 
is  safe  !  Think  of  my  stepping  by  chance — 
quite  by  chance — into  Sloweome  and  Sligo's, 
as  I  was  walking  down  the  street, — thinking 
of  the  job  you  were  after,  you  dog  !— ^just  to 
ask  whether  they  were  getting  on  with  the 
settlements.  I  do  not  know  what  prompted 
me  to  go  in.  But  it  is  a  wonderful  instance 
how  a  merciful  Providence  overrules  our  ac- 
tions. I  think  it  must  have  been  a  feeling 
that  it  would  be  just  as  well  for  me  to  show 
in  that  way  that  I  knew  nothing  about  the 
elopement,  you  know.  So  I  just  stepped  in  ; 
and  Sloweome  told  me  the  ncM's." 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"What  news,  in  Heaven's  name  ?  " 
"Do  be  patient  a  moment,  Frederick? 
Am  I  not  telling  you  ?  '  Settlements  !  '  said 
Slowcorae  ;  '  it  will  be  well  if  Lindisfarn  is 
ever  able  to  make  any  settlement  at  all  on  his 
girls,'  or  something  to  that  cfieet.  And 
then  he  told  me  that  he  had  just  had  a  man 
with  him,  who  had  made  a  formal  claim  on 
the  inheritance  on  behalf  of  a  son  of  Julian 
Lindisfarn,  who,  the  man  said,  had  not  died 
in  America  long  ago,  as  supposed,  but  quite 
recently  in  this  immediate  neighborhood." 
"  A  son  of  Julian  Lindisfarn  !  " 
"  Yes  ;  a  eon  by  a  certain  Miss  Mallory 
out  at  Chewton  in  the  Moor,  his  father's  liv- 
ing, you  know." 

"  What,  a  legitimate  son?  "  asked  Fred- 
erick, eagerly. 

"  Yes ;  it  would  seem  so ;  a  eon  born  in 
wedlock,  of  Julian  Lindisfarn  and  his  wife, 
Barbara  Mallory !  " 

"  His  wife?  I  do  remember,  sir,  that  at 
the  time  of  his  unhappy  detection  and  escape, 
there  was  something  about  some  girl  out  on 
the  Moor.  Of  course,  you  know,  sir,  I  was 
not  in  his  confidence,  and  knew  little  or 
nothing  about  the  matter ;  but  I  know  that 
he  had  some  tie  of  the  sort  out  there.  But 
his  wife, — isiL  pji^lblc?  Well,  he  was  just 
the  sort  of  man,  soft  enough  and  reckless 
enough  to  be  led  into  anything  of  the  kind. 
And  to  think  that  his  son  should  now  turn 
up  to  cut  the  Misses  Lindisfarn  out  of  their 
inheritance  !  " 

"Ay,  indeed !  Slowcome  talked  about 
some  possibility  that  the  child  might  turn 
out  to  be  illegitimate  after  all.  But  he  ad- 
mitted that  the  man  had  shown  him  copies 
of  documents, — extracts  fi'om  the  register 
and  that  sort  of  thing  ;  and  he  evidently  had 
little  or  no  hope  of  being  able  to  resist  the 
claim  himself.  Yes,  the  property  will  to  go  the 
child  of  that  scamp,  Julian,  and  Miss  Marga- 
ret and  Miss  Kate  will  be  nowhere  !  Don't 
you  feel,  Fred,  that  you  have  had  a  most 
narrow,  a  most  providential  escape?  " 

"  An  escape,  indeed  !  "  cried  Frederick. 
"  It  makes  my  head  go  round  to  think  of  it. 
But  it  is  very  painful,  too,  to  think  of  that 
poor  girl ;  she  will  be  furious, — absolutely 
furious  ;  and  will  feel  that  I  have  used  her 
very  ill." 

"  Pshaw,  let  her  think  what  she  pleases  ! 
What  signifies  it  what  she  thinks?  Slie  has 
not  a  sixpence  in  the  world,  I  tell  you.     She 


219 


will  have  enough  to  think  about  as  soon  ae 
this  terrible  news  i-eachcs  her.  Of  course  it 
will  be  Slowcome's  duty  to  communicate  it 
to  the  Lindisfarns  immediately.  It  will  be 
all  over  the  town  to-morrow .  Good  Heavens ! 
I  should  never  have  forgiven  myself,  Fred,  if 
this  elopement  business  had  taken  place. 
You  will  be  pleased  to  hear,  too,  that  there 
is  much  less  need  for  any  hasty  step  of  the 
sort.  The  news  from  Lombard  Street  to-day 
has  been  very, good.  I  am  in  considerable 
hopes  that  we  shall  get  over  the  danger  with 
no  more  damage  than  a  mere  scratch.  A 
merciful  escape  there,  too.  But  it  would 
have  made  it  doubly  unfortunate  if  you  had 
gone  and  irretrievably  linked  your  fortunes 
to  those  of  a  beggar.  As  it  is,  your  pros- 
pects are  as  bright  as  ever.  And  a  vrovd  in 
your  ear,  my  boy  !  Blakistry  told  me  he  did 
not  like  the  sound  of  Merriton's  cough  at  all  ; 
and  look  at  his  narrow  chest.  In  that  case, 
you  know,  little  Emily  Merriton  would  be 
a  prize  in  the  lottery  worth  catching,  eh  ?  " 
In  fact,  the  last  posts  from  London  had 
brought  the  Silverton  banker  tidings  from 
his  correspondents  in  Lombard  Street,  which 
gave  him  great  hope  that  the  serious  danger 
which  had  threatened  him  would  pass  over 
with  very  little  damage ;  and  for  the  last  day 
or  two  his  heart  had  been  very  much  more  at 
ease. 

The  result  of  this  had  been  that  the  old 
gentleman's  mind  had  returned,  with  ita 
usual  zest,  to  those  learned  recreations  which 
were  his  delight  ;  and  he  had  been  able  once 
more  to  take  tha*  interest  in  the  proceedings 
of  the  Silverton  archaeologists,  which,  during 
the  period  of  sharp  anxiety  about  the  fortunes 
of  the  bank,  graver  cares  had  put  to  flight. 
It  was  time,  too,  that  he  should  do  so.  The 
great  annual  meeting  of  the  Sillshire  Anti- 
quarian Society  was  to  take  place  next  month, 
Several  important  papers  from  various  leading 
members  were  to  be  read,  and  one  especially 
by  Dr.  Lindisfarn  on  the  "  History  and  Anti- 
quities of  the  Church  of  Chewton  in  the 
Moor." 

Chewton  Church  was  one  of  the  specimens 
of  ecclesiastical  architecture  of  which  Sill- 
shire was  most  proud.  Next  to  Silverton 
Cathedral,  it  was,  probably,  the  finest  church 
in  the  county.  Its  remote  position  had 
hitherto  prevented  it  from  receiving  all  the 
attention  which  it  merited.  But  there  were 
several  points  of  especial  architectural  and 


220  LINDISFARN    CHASE. 

ccclesiological  interest  attaching  to  it,  and  soi-disant  Mrs.  Lindisfarn,  and  the  child, 
much  was  expected  from  Dr.  Lindisfarn's  who  had  become  all  at  once  of  so  much  inipor- 
promised  paper.  It  was,  in  a  special  degree,  tance.  The  news  of  the  loss  of  Iliram  Pen- 
his  own  ground,  as  he  was  the  rector  of  the  dleton's  vessel,  and  of  the  stranger,  who  had 
parish.  He  was  understood  to  have  bestowed  taken  passage  in  her  back  to  France,  and  of 
long  and  careful  study  on  the  subject,  and  a  the  gallant  rescue  of  a  woman  and  child  by 
great  treat  was  expected  by  his  learned  the  bold  smuggler  himself,  had  become  par- 
brethren,  and  a  considerable  triumph  by  tially  known  in  Silverton ;  and  it  had  reached 
himself.  the  banker's  ears  that  the  rescued  mother  and 

Mr.  Falconer  did  not  at  all  relish  the  child  had  gone  back  to  the  house  of  the 
prospect  which  was  so  pleasant  to  his  old  woman's  father  at  Chewton. 
rival  and  (archaeological)  enemy.  It  was  Before  the  Sunday  came,  however,  which 
gall  and  wormwood  to  him  to  think  that  the  the  banker  had  fixed  for  his  excursion,  others 
canon  should  have  it  all  to  himself,  and  be  of  those  more  nearly  interested  in  the  extra- 
permitted  to  walk  over  the  course,  as  it  were,  ordinary  tale  which  had  been  told  to  Mr. 
He  was  sure  that  Lindisfarn  would  be  guilty  Slowcome  were  beforehand  with  him  in  a  visit 
of  some  grievous  error,  some  absurdity  or  to  the  little  moorland  village, 
other,  which  it  would  be  a  delicious  treat  to  Of  course,  Mr.  Slowcome  lost  no  time  in 
him  to  expose  at  the  general  meeting  of  the  communicating  his  tidings  to  the  persons 
society, — a  very  learned  man,  the  doctor  ;  no  most  nearly  concerned  in  them.  He  had 
doubt  a  very  learned  man  ;  but  so  inaccurate,  himself,  the  very  next  thing  the  morning  af- 
so careless,  so  hasty  in  jumping  to  a  conclu-  ter  his  interview  with  Mallory,  driven  up  to 
sion  !  the  Chase,  and  been  closeted  with  the  squire 

The  doctor's    memoir    had,  it  was  well  in  his  study.     Thus  Kate  was  forestalled  in 

known   to  his  brother  archseologists,  been  the  disclosure  she  was,  in  accordance  with 

some  months  in  preparation  ;  and  the  banker  the  agreement  come  to   with   her  sister,  to 


had  already   more    than   once   been   out  to 
Chewton  quietly  by  himself  to  ascertain  as  far  ' 


have  made  to  her  father  that  Game  morning. 

And  it  became  unnecessary  for  her  to  say 
as  possible  the  probable  scope  and  line  of  the  anything  on  the  subject.  The  news  the 
doctor's  inquiries  and  researches,  and  to  find,  lawyer  bi'ought  was  necessarily  a  tremen- 
if  possible,  the  means  of  tripping  him  up.  dously  heavy  blow  to  the  stout  and  hearty 
It  was  thus  that  he  had  become  acquainted  old  man.  Would  to  God,  he  said,  that  the 
with  the  fact  that  old  Jared  ^lallory  was  truth  could  have  been  known  some  years 
the  clerk  of  Chewton  ;  and  had  indeed  made  earlier  !  He  might  then  have  been  enabled 
some  little  acquaintance  with  that  worthy  to  make  some  provision  fur  his  poor  dear  un- 
himsclf;  inasmuch  as  the  banker's  inqui-  dowered  girls.  It  was  now,  alas  !  almost  too 
ries  and  examinations  had  necessarily  been  late.  He  could  not  expect  to  hold  the  prop- 
mainly  conducted  through  him.  Now,  hav-  erty  many  more  v'-ars.  Still,  he  might  yet 
ing  his  mind  more  at  ease  respecting  his  do  something.  Anyway,  God's  will  be  done  ; 
business  anxieties,  and  returning  therefore  to  and  God  forbid  that  he  should  wish  or  make 
his  pet  object  of  spoiling,  if  possible,  his  rival's  any  attempt  to  set  aside  the  just  right  of  his 


expected  triumph,  he  determined  to  pay 
another  visit  to  the  locality  on  the  following 
Sunday.  That  day  was  the  best  for  the 
purpose  for  two  reasons  ;  first,  because  the 
banker  could  then  absent  himself  from 
Silverton  for  the  entire  day,  without  inter- 


brother's  grandson. 

"  Those  are  the  sentiments,  Mr.  Lindis- 
farn, which,  if  I  may  take  the  liberty  of  say- 
ing so,  I  felt  sure  that  I  should  find  in  you. 
At  the  same  time,"  said  Mr.  Slowcome, 
"  you  will  permit  me  to  observe  that  it  is  our 
fering  with  business  ;  and,  secondly,  because  bounden  duty  to  ascertain  beyond  all  doubt, 
on  that  day  he  could  be  sure  that  Dr.  Lin-  that  the  child  in  question  is  in  truth  the 
disfai-n  would  be  safe  in  Silverton,  and  that  legal  heir  to  the  estates." 
there  would  be  no  danger  of  meeting  him  on '  "  Is  there  any  doubt  upon  that  point,  Slow- 
the  battle-field.     The  strange  cii'cumstances   come?"  ' 

which  lie  had  heard  from  Slowcome  made  "  I  cannot  tell  you,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  Mr. 
him  curious,  moreover,  to  see  that  old  man  Lindisfarn,  that  I  have  any  very  strong 
again,  and  possibly    also  his  daughter,  the   doubts  upon  the  subject, — or  rather,  perhaps, 


LINDISFARN    CHASE.  221 

I  should  say  that  T  have  not  any  very  strong  Mr.  Mat  was  absolutely  furious, — utterly 
hope  of  being  able  to  prove  that  any  such  refused  to  believe  in  the  legitimacy  of  Julian's 
doubt  in  my  own  mind  is  justified  by  the  son, — swore  it  was  all  a  vile  plot;  he  knew 
facts  of  the  case.  But  I  have  some  doubt  ;  I  those  Mallorys,  and  knew  they  wore  up  to 
certainly  have,  some  doubt, — not  that  the  anything.  He  had  known  poor  old  Mellish 
child  now  brouglit  forward  is  the  son  of  your  well.  He  did  not  believe  but  that  the  regis- 
ter could  be  found.  It  must  and  should  be 
found  somehow !  In  short,  Mr.  ]\Iat  was 
utterly  rebellious  against  fate  and  facts. 

Margaret  of  course  was  still  at  her  uncle's 
house  ;  and  the  task  of  breaking  the  news  to 


nephew  Julian  Lindisfarn,  but  doubt  whether 
or  no  he  were  really  born  in  wedlock." 

"  "Well,  Slowcome  ;  you  know  how  incom- 
petent I  am  even  to  form  an  opinion  upon  the 
subject.  Let  right  be  done.  That  is  all  I 
say.  And  I  know  I  may  leave  the  matter  '  her  would  therefore  fall  on  others, 
wholly  in  your  hands,  with  no  other  expres- 
sion of  my  wishes  on  the  subject  save  that." 

"  Certainly,    certainly,    Mr.     Lindisfarn. 


Mr.  Slowcome's  duty  in  the  Close  was  of  a 

I  less  disagreeable  nature  than  it  had  been  up 

"lis  tidings  were 


at  the  Chase.     Nevertheless, 


Quite  so.     Of  course  I  have  not  had  time  as   not  received  there  with  any  kind  of  satis- 


yet  to  make  any,  even  the  most  preliminary, 
inquiry  in  the  matter, — hardly  even  to  think 
of  the  subject  with  any  due  degree  of  consid- 
eration. But  you  may  depend  on  all  being 
done  that  ought  to  be  done." 

"  Thank  you,  Slowcome.  And  now  comes 
the  cruellest  part  of  the  business  :  I  must 
break  the  news  to  my  poor  girls  !  I  know 
my  Kate  will  bear  it  bravely.  And  my  poor, 
poor  ^largaret — hers  is  a  hard  case  !  But, 
any  way,  it  is  a  mercy  that  this  was  dis- , 
covered  before  she  made  a  marriage  under  < 
false  pretences,  as  it  were.  Falconer  is  now 
at  liberty  to  do  as  he  likes  about  it.  You 
will  let  Mr.  Falconer  understand  that  I  con- 
eider  him  perfectly  released  from  every 
shadow  of  a  promise  or  intention  made  under 
other  circumstances."  i 


faction  or  exultation.  It  was  some  littla 
time  before  Dr.  Lindisfarn  could  be  brought 
to  remember  all  the  old  circumstances,  and 
piece  them  together  with  those  new  ones 
which  had  come  to  light  sufficiently  to  under- 
stand the  present  position  of  the  matter- 
When  he  did  so,  his  distress  for  his  brother 
and  his  nieces  was  evidently  stronger  in  his 
mind  than  any  gratification  at  the  prospect 
opened  before  his  own  grandchild.  The 
thought  that  his  poor  lost  son — lost  so  long, 
and,  truth  to  tell,  so  nearly  forgotten — 
had  been  all  those  years  alive  (and  under 
what  circumstances)  and  had  died  so  misera- 
bly but  the  other  day,  and  almost  within 
sight  of  his  paternal  home  !  All  this  was  a 
stirring  up  of  harrowing  memories  and  pain- 
ful thouo-hts  that  brought  with  them  nothing 


"  And  now,  Mr.  Lindisfarn,  I  must  lose   of  compensation  in  the  changed  destinies  of 
no  time   in  waiting  on  your   brother.     My    the  family  acres. 


first  duty  was,  of  course,  to  you." 


As  for   Lady   Sempronia,  she   went  into 


So  tlie  lawyer  bowed  himself  out ;  and  the  |  violent  hysterics,  and  shut  herself  up  in  her 
poor  old  squire  went  bravely  to  work  at  the   own  room,  of  course.     It  was  a  gratification 


cruelly  painful  task  before  him. 

Kate  said  all  she  could  to  comfort  him. 
To  her  the  most  painful  part  of  the  conversa- 
tion with  her  father  was  the  necessity  of  con- 
cealing from  him  the  fact  that  she  already 
knew  all  he  had  to  tell  her.  She  doubted 
long  as  to  her  true  duty  in  the  matter,  and 
was  more  than  once  almost  inclined  to  yield 
to  the  temptation  of  telling  him  all.  But  l 
the  recollection  of  her  promise  to  i\Iargaret, —  [ 
though  accordincr  to  the  letter  of  it,  she  was  1 


to  her  that  this  tremendous  trial  should 
added  to  her  store  of  such  things,  much  of 
the  same  sort  as  that  experienced  by  a  col- 
lector who  adds  some  specially  fine  specimen 
of  anything  hideous  to  his  museum. 

Dr.  Lindisfarn  requested  Mr.  Slowcome  to 
undertake  the  duty  of  breaking  the  news  to 
Margaret ;  and  the  delicate  task  was  accom- 
plished by  that  worthy  gentleman,  with  all 
the  lengthy  periphrasis  and  courtly  pompos- 
ty  which  he  deemed  fitting  to  the  occasion. 


now  at  liberty  to  speak,  and  if  the  facts  had   It  is  needless  to  say  that  Margaret  played  her 

not  become  otherwise  known,  she  would  have  .  part  to  perfection.     Of  course  she  knew  per- 

of  the  position  she    fectlv  well  from  1 


spoken, — and  the  thought  of  the  positi 
would  have  been  placed  in  by  the  avowal, 
kept  her  silent. 


fectly  well  from  the  moment  of  his  solemn 
entry  into  Lady  Sempronia's  drab  drawing- 
room,  and  still  more  solemn  introduction  of 


222 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


himself,  every  word  that  he  was  going  to  say. 
But  he  left  her  with  the  conviction  that  it 
was  impossible  for  any  young  lady  in  her  un- 
fortunate position  to  show  a  greater  or  more 
touching  degree  of  natural  sensibility,  tem- 
pered by  beautiful  resignation  and  admirable 
good  sense,  than  she  had  done.  She  had  lis- 
tened with  marked  attention  to  the  possi- 
bilities he  had  hinted  at  of  error  or  fraud  in 
the  statements  made,  and  had  cordially  ad- 
hered to  his  declarations  of  the  propriety  of 
taking  every  possible  step  with  a  view  to  dis- 
covering the  real  truth. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  old  Slow  to  himself,  as  he 
left  the  drawing-room,  "  such  a  girl  as  that, 
with  one  half  of  the  Lindisfarn  property, 
would  have  been  a  pretty  catch  for  my  young 
friend  Fred.  It  is  a  sad  business, — a  vei'y 
sad  business." 

But  before  leaving  the  doctor's  house,  Mr. 
Slowcome  caused  himself  to  be  again  shown 
into  the  study ;  and  set  before  the  doctor  his 


himself  accompany  one  of  the  firm  on  a  visit 
to  Chewton,  with  a  view  to  seeing  on  the 
spot  what  could  be  done  with  a  hope  of  dis- 
covering the  missing  register. 

"  I  would  go  myself,  Dr.  Lindisfarn,"  he 
said,  "  if  my  presence  were  not  imperatively 
required  in  Silverton,  or  if  Mr.  Sligo  were 
not  in  every  respect  as  competent  as  myself 
to  do  all  that  can  be  done.  But  it  would  be 
a  great  assistance  to  us,  if  you  would  consent 
to  accompany  him,  both  on  account  of  your 
knowledge  of  the  people  and  the  localities, 
and  more  especially  because  your  authority, 
as  rector  of  the  parish,  would  be  exceedingly 
useful  to  us." 

To  this  proposal  the  doctor,  who  was  by 
no  means  loath  to  pay  yet  another  visit  to  the 
scene  and  subject  of  his  ecclesiological  la- 
bors, and  who  began *to  speculate  on  the  pos- 
sibility of  finding  or  creating  a  disciple  in 
Mr.  Sligo,  made  no  difficulty.  And  it  was 
decided  that  the  visit  should  be  made,  as  un- 


very  strong  desire  that  Dr.  Lindisfarn  should  expectedly  as  Dossible,  on  the  morrow. 


LINDISPARN    CHASE. 


CHAPTER    XLI. 
IN   MR.    SLIGO'S   GIG. 

The  church  at  Chewton  in  the  Moor  was, 
as  has  been  said,  a  rcmarliable  and  beauti- 
ful building,  the  lofty  nave  and  side-aisles  of 
which  were  admirable  specimens  of  the  severe 
and  yet  graceful  style,  which  ecclesiologists 
of  a  later  generation  than  Dr.  Lindisfarn 
have  taught  us  to  call  "  Early  English," 
while  tlie  transepts,  tower,  and  chancel  evi- 
dently belonged  to  a  still  earlier  period.  Had 
it  not  been  that  certain  untoward  circum- 
stances prevented  the  publication  of  Dr.  Lin- 
disfarn's  elaborate  and  profound  Monograph 
on  the  subject,  I  might  have  been  able  to 
gratify  the  reader  with  a  more  detailed 
and  circumstantial  description  of  this  in- 
teresting structure  than  I  can  now  pretend 
to  lay  before  him.  As  it  is,  I  must  con- 
tent myself  Fith  mentioning  one  specially 
curious  feature,  to  the  elucidation  of  which 
the  learned  canon  had  particularly  applied 
himself,  and  which  formed  the  subject  of  one 
chapter  of  the  Memoir,  headed,  "  On  the  re- 
mains of  the  ancient  panelling  in  the  pas- 
sage loading  to  the  sacristy  of  Chewton 
Church,  and  on  certain  fragments  of  inscrip- 
tions still  legible  thereon." 

There  was  in  fiict  at  Chewton  a  singular 
little  building  almost  detached  from  the 
church,  at  the  end  of  the  south  transept  of 
which  it  stood,  and  which  had  evidently  in 
old  times  formed  the  sacristy,  and  was  now 
known  by  the  more  Protestant  sounding  ti- 
tle of  the  vestry, — a  thoroughly  good  Prot- 
estant word,  though  its  first  cousin  "  vest- 
ment "  has  a  suspiciously  Eomish  twang  in 
the  sound  of  it !  Well,  this  whilom  sa- 
cristy was  reached  from  the  church  by  a 
sort  of  corridor,  which  opened  out  of  the  east- 
ern wall  of  the  transept,  and  which  seemed 
to  be  an  unnecessarily  costly  means  of  com- 
munication, inasmuch  as  a  door  at  the  ex- 
treme corner  of  the  transept  would  have 
equally  effected  the  purpose.  But  those 
"noble  boys  at  play,"  our  ancestors,  did 
not  always,  as  we  all  know,  practise  an  en- 
lightened economy  in  their  playing.  The 
appearance  of  the  detached  building  and  of 
the  corridor  was  extremely  picturesque  both 
on  the  inside  and  the  outside  ;  and  was  uni- 
versally felt  to  be  so  by  all  visitors.  And 
it  does  seem  just  possible  that  the  aforesaid 
noble   old  boys  spent  their  money  and  toil 


223 

with  the  express  intention  of  producing  that 
result. 

Anyway,  there  was  the  passage,  with  its 
remains  of  cut-stone  mouldings  and  various 
ornamentation  grievously  obliterated  and  de- 
stroyed by  the  layers  of  Protestant  wliite- 
wash,  which  the  zeal  of  many  generations  of 
un-£esthetic  church-wardens  had  laid  stratum 
over  stratum  upon  them.  And  then,  near 
the  sacristy  door  in  the  riglit-hand  wall  of 
the  passage,  going  toward  that  apartment, 
there  were  still  visible  through  these  coat- 
ings of  a  purer  faith  the  ornamented  cornices 
and  mouldings  of  a  small  but  very  beautiful 
arch,  which  seemed  too  low  to  have  ever  been 
intended  for  a  doorway.  And  beneath  this 
arch,  there  were  certain  remains  of  panelling, 
partially,  and  indeed  almost  entirely  white- 
washed over,  on  which  the  greedily  prying 
eyes  of  the  learned  canon  had  detected,  in 
certain  spots,  where  the  whitewash  had  been 
rubbed  off,  those  fragments  of  ancient  in- 
scriptions, alluded  to  in  the  heading  to  that 
chapter  of  the  Monograph  which  has  been 
quoted.  The  rubbing  off  of  the  whitewash 
had  been  very  partial  and  irregular  but  enough 
of  the  ancient  woodwork  beneath  it  had 
been  uncovered  to  permit  certain  remains 
mains  of  painting  to  be  seen,  and  especially 
the  letters  Tanti  ....  ri  ....  •  tanti 
•  •  •  .  Ai  ....  TAN  ....  in  an  ex- 
tremely rude  and  archaic  character  ! 

It  was  known  among  the  Sillshire  archa3- 
ologists,  that  Dr.  Lindisfarn  had  expended 
an  immense  amount  of  erudition  in  the  elu- 
cidation of  these  mysterious  syllables,  and 
had  constructed  on  the  somewhat  slender 
scaffolding  poles  thus  furnished  him  a  vast 
fabric  of  theory  and  conjecture,  embracing 
various  curious  points  in  the  social  and  ec- 
clesiastical history  and  manners  of  the  Eng- 
lish clergy  during  the  reigns  immediately 
following  the  Norman  invasion  ;  and  a  very 
great  treat  was  expected  to  result  from  his  la- 
bors. It  was  evident  that  something  was  lost 
between  the  adjective  "  tanti  "  and  the  sub- 
stantive "vi"!  They  could  not  be  joined 
in  lawful  syntax  together  !  And  what  could 
the  missing  word  or  words  have  been  ?  The 
learned  Sillshire  world  was  on  the  tiptoe  of 
expectation. 

More  than  once  already  had  the  doctor 
strained  his  eyes  to  descry  if  possible  the 
very  faintest  outline  or  Dmallest  portion  of  a 


224 


letter  in  the  space,  which  separated  those 
given  above  ;  but  all  in  vain  !  And  now  he 
proposed  profiting  by  the  trip  proposed  to 
him  by  Mr.  Slowcome,  to  take  the  opportu- 
nity of  bringing  the  younger  eyes  of  the  gen- 
tleman who  was  to  be  his  companion  to  bear 
upon  the  subject. 

For  Mr.  Sligo  was,  it  must  be  understood, 
quite  a  young  man,  and  was  supposed,  in- 
deed, by  most  of  those  who  knew  him,  to  be 
able  to  see  as  far  into  a  millstone  as  most 
men.  He  was  in  all  respects  a  very  different 
man  from  his  senior  partner,  Mr.  Slowcome. 
In  contradiction  to  what  had  been  the  prac- 
tice of  the  firm  for  several  generations,  young 
Sligo  had  been  educated  for  his  profession, 
not  in  the  paternal  oiScc  in  Silverton,  but  in 
London  ;  and  indeed,  had  only  come  down  to 
the  western  metropolis  when  the  sudden 
death  of  his  father,  old  Sligo,  had  opened  to 
him  the  inheritance  of  a  share  in  the  old-es- 
tablished firm. 

Mr.  Slowcome  did  not  altogether  like 
young  Mr.  Sligo.  One  understands  that 
such  should  be  the  case.  I  believe  that  old 
Slow  had  more  real  knowledge  of  law  in  his 
pigtail  than  Sligo  had  in  his  whole  body. 
Nevertheless,  the  younger  man  came  down 
from  London  with  airs  and  pretensions  of 
new-fangled  enlightenment,  and  was  full  of 
modern  instances,  and  an  offensive  "  nous- 
avons-change-tout-cela ' '  sort  of  assumption 
of  superiority,  which  the  greater  part — in- 
cluding all  the  younger  portion — of  the  pro- 
vincial world  were  disposed  to  accept  as 
good  currency.  Then  young  Sligo  was  very 
rapid ;  and  old  Slowcome  was  very  slow  ; 
and  there  were  other  points  of  contrast,  too 
marked  to  escape  either  the  Silvertonians  or 
the  partners  themselves.  Young  Mr.  Sligo, 
however,  proved  himself  an  efiicient  and  use- 
ful member  of  the  firm,  keen,  active,  and  in- 
telligent. He  was,  moreover,  "  Young  Sligo" 
the  son  of  "  Old  Sligo  ;  "  and  that  was  all  in 
all  to  jNIr.  Slowcome.  So,  though  the  two 
men  were  as  different  in  all  respects  as  any 
two  men  could  be,  they  got  on  pretty  well 
together. 

Old  Slowcome  was  admitted  to  the  society 
of  the  clergy  in  the  Close,  and  of  the  squire- 
archy in  the  neighborhood  on  tolerably 
equal  terms  ;  but  this  standing  had  hardly 
yet  been  accorded  to  ]Mr.  Sligo.  So  that  he 
was  all  but  a  stranger  to  Dr.  Lindisfarn 
when  he  waited  upon  the  canon  immediately 


NDISFARN    CHASE. 

after  breakfast  on  the  morning  subsequent 
to  the  conversation  between  that  gentleman 
and  Mr.  Slowcome,  according  to  the  arrange- 
ment which  had  been  made  between  them. 

Mr.  Sligo  had  a  very  neat  gig  and  a  spank- 
ing, fast-trotting  mare  ;  and  his  offer  of  driv- 
ing Dr.  Lindisfarn  over  to  Chewton  had  been 
'willingly  accepted  by  the  doctor.  The  road 
by  which  Chewton  could  be  reached  in  this 
manner  was,  for  the  latter  half  of  it,  a  dif- 
ferent and  a  somewhat  longer  one  than  that 
by  which  Dr.  Blakistry  had  ridden  across 
the  moor,  the  track  which  he  had  followed 
being  altogether  impossible  for  wheels. 

"  I  confess.  Dr.  Lindisfarn,"  said  Sligo  to 
his  companion,  after  they  had  quitted  Silver- 
ton,  and  had  exchanged  a  few  remarks  on  the 
beauty  of  the  morning,  the  qualities  of  ]Mr. 
Sligo's  fast-trotting  mare,  etc., — "  I  confess 
that  I  have  hopes  of  the  result  of  our  inves- 
tigations to-day." 

"  I  am  truly  delighted  to  hear  you  say  so !  " 
replied  Dr.  Lindisfarn. 

"  I  have,  indeed ;  and  it  is  very  gratify- 
ing to  feel  that  all  the  parties  are  of  one 
mind  in  the  matter." 

"Oh  !  there  is  no  doubt  of  that.  All  the 
county  are  anxious  about  it." 

"  No  doubt, — no  doubt.  Our  investigation 
will  be  a  delicate  one,"  added  Mr.  Sligo,  af- 
ter a  short  pause. 

"Oh,  excessively  so ;  you  can  have  no  idea 
to  what  a  degree  that  is  the  case  !  "  cried 
the  doctor,  with  great  animation  ;  "  the  traces 
are  so  slight  " — 

"They  are  so,  that  must  be  admitted; 
they  are  very  slight  certainly.  Nevertheless, 
to  a  sharp  and  practised  eye.  Dr.  Lindisfarn, 
if  you  will  not  think  it  presumptuous  of  me 
to  pay  so,  there  are  certain  appearances 
which  " — 

"Indeed!  you  don't  say  so?"  exclaimed 
Dr.  Lindisfarn,  hardly  moi'e  delighted  than 
surprised  ;  "  I  was  not  aware,  Mr.  Sligo, 
that  you  had  ever  turned  your  attention  to 
investigations  of  this  character." 

"Turned  my  attention?  "Why,  if  you  will 
excuse  my  saying  so,  Dr.  Lindisfarn,  I  flatter 
myself  that  matters  of  this  sort  are  my  spe- 
iality." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  I  am  truly  delighted 
to  hear  it.  We  shall  be  rejoiced  to  Avelcome 
you  among  us  as  a  fellow-laborer,  Mr. 
Sligo." 

"  Any  assistance  I  may  be  able  to  give,  in 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


any  stage  of  the  business,  I  shall  be  proud 
and  happy  to  afford.  I  am  sure,  Dr.  Lindis- 
farn,"  replied  the  lawyer,  rather  surjirised 
at  the  warmth  of  his  companion's  expressions 
of  gratitude. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  I  am  sure,  Mr. 
Sligo,"  returned  the  doctor,  drawing  up  a 
little  ;  for  the  young  lawyer's  proposal  of  med- 
dling with  any  other  stage  of  the  case  had 
instantly  alarmed  his  antiquarian  jealousy, 
and  he  beg  an  to  suspect  a  plot  for  robbing 
him  of  a  portion  of  the  credit  of  his  discov- 
ery,— "  you  are  very  kind,  but  I  think  I  shall 
not  need  to  trespass  on  your  kindness  in  re- 
spect to  any  part  of  the  matter,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  researches  to  be  made  to-day.'' 

"Oh,  indeed,  Dr.  Lindisfarn  !  You  are 
the  best  judge.  I  may  say,  however,  that 
when  I  was  with  Draper  and  Duster,  all  the 
work  of  this  kind  there  was  to  be  done 
passed  through  my  hands.  But  you  know 
best,  sir." 

"Draper  and  Duster, — I  do  not  remember 
either  of  the  names.  Are  they  members  of 
the  Society?"  asked  Dr.  Lindisfarn,  much 
puzzled. 

"  Yes,  sir,  they  are.  Gray's  Inn.  One 
of  the  first  houses  in  London." 

"  I  don't  think  I  quite  follow  you,  Mr. 
Sligo.  1  have  heard  of  Gray's  Inn,  as  a 
place  of  abode  for  gentlemen  of  your  profes. 
sion.  But  though  I  believe  I  know  most  of 
the  distinguished  men  who  cultivate  our  de- 
lightful science,  I  do  not  think  that  I  ever 
heard  of  the  antiquaries  you  mention." 

"  Well,  sir, — they  do  cultivate  the  delight- 
ful science,  as  you  are  complimentary  enough 
to  call  it, — not  a  little.  But  I  never  said 
that  they  were  antiquaries  ;  and  I  don't  much 
see  what  that  has  to  do  with  the  matter." 

"  Then  I  am  afraid,  Mr.  Sligo,  that  we 
shall  differ  toto  coelo  on  the  most  fundamental 
notions  of  the  spirit  in  which  the  pursuit 
should  be  taken  up  and  conducted,"  said  the 
doctor,  very  sententiously,  "  unless  the  light 
of  profound  erudition  and  scholarship  be 
brought  to  bear  upon  these  investigations, 
they  sink  to  the  rank  of  mere  twaddling  and 
trifling." 

Mr.  Sligo  faced  round  in  the  gig  at  this, 
and  looked  at  the  senior  canon  with  a  sharp 
and  shrewd  eye,  as  in  doubt  whetlier  the 
oddncss  he  had  heard  of  in  Dr.  Lindisfarn, 
did  not  extend  to  the  length  of  what  he 
called,  in  common  people,  not  canons  of  ca- 

15 


225 

thedral  churches,  stark,  staring  lunacy.  He 
saw  the  old  gentleman's  florid  and  clean- 
shaven face  was  a  little  flushed, — for  the  doc- 
tor had  been  speaking  with  the  energy  of 
profound  conviction  on  a  point  that  touched 
him  nearly, — and  he  therefore  answered  in  a 
very  mild  voice. 

"  It  would  not  become  me  to  differ  with 
you  on  the  subject,  Dr.  Lindisfarn  ;  far  from 
it.  No  doubt  you  are  right.  I  dare  say  what 
we  have  got  to  do  to-day  7naT/  seem  twaddling 
and  trifling  to  a  gentleman  like  you  ;  but  I 
can  assure  you  that  it  is  only  by  such  twad- 
dling and  trifling  that  we  have  any  chance  of 
saving  the  Lindisfarn  property  from  going  to 
an  illegitimate  brat." 

"Saving  the  Lindisfarn  property!  Bless 
my  heart,  Mr.  Sligo,  I  was  not  thinking  any- 
thing about  the  Lindisfarn  property." 

"  Then  what,  in  the  name  of  Heaven — I 
beg  your  pardon,  Dr.  Lindisfarn — but  what, 
if  you  please,  have  we  been  talking  about  all 
this  time?  " 

"  Talking  about,  Mr.  Sligo?  Why,  about 
the  partially  defaced  inscription  in  the  sac- 
risty, to  be  sure.  What  else  should  we  have 
been  talking  about?" 

"j,Oh,  dear,  dear  me.  There  is  a  case  of 
mistaken  identity  now.  Why,  if  you  will 
believe  me.  Dr.  Lindisfarn,  I  was  speaking, 
and  thought  you  were  speaking,  all  the  time 
about  the  search  for  the  missing  register  that 
we  are  going  to  make  at  Chewton." 

"  I  was  mistaken  then  in  supposing  that 
you  are  interested  in  antiquarian  investiga- 
tions, Mr.  Sligo?"  said  the  old  man.  much 
disappointed. 
"  I  am  afraid  so,  sir,"  said  Sligo. 
"  And  you  never  have  paid  any  attention 
to  the  deciphering  of  ancient  inscriptions?  " 
"  Not  that  I  am  aware  of,  sir." 
Dr.   Lindisfarn    heaved  a  deep   sigh,  but 
was  nevertheless  somewhat  comforted  by  the 
reflection  that  he  was  in  no  danger  of  being 
robbed  by  a  rival,  if  he  had  no  chance  of  as- 
sistance from  a  brother. 

"  Nevertheless,"  he  said,  "  it  may  be  that 
you  might  be  able  to  descry  with  your  young 
eyes  what  my  old  ones,  though  aided  by, 
perhaps  I  may  be  allowed  to  say,  no  incom- 
petent amount  of  study,  have  failed  to  make 
out.  I  will  show  you  the  spot,  and  perhaps 
you  will  try  if  you  can  discover  any  further 
emains  of  letters." 
"  With  all   the  pleasure  in  life,  Dr.  Lin- 


226 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


disfarii  ;  and  you  shall  assist  me  with  your 
authority  as  rector,  and  your  acquaintance 
with  the  late  curate's  character  and  ways. 
I  am  told  he  was  a  very  queer  one." 

"  The  fact  is,  I  am  ashamed  to  say,  Mr. 
Sligo,  that  I  knew  very  little  about  him  ; 
less,  perhaps,  than  I  ought  to  have  done.  I 
found  him  there  when  I  succeeded  to  the  liv- 
ing, which  had  previously  been  held  by  old 
Dean  Burder.  He  was  quite  one  of  the  old 
school,  I  take  it." 

"Ah!  not  very  regular  in  his  ways,  nor 
quite  up  to  the  mark,  I  suppose.  I  believe 
Mr.  Matthew  Lindisfarn  knew  him  well?  " 

"Yes.  I  fancy  Mr.  Mat  and  poor  Mel- 
lish  used  to  be  rather  cronies  in  those  old 
times.  Mellish  was  very  musical,  and  that 
was  enough  for  Mr.  Mat." 

"  Oh,  musical,  was  he?  But  he  was  a 
little  too  fond  of  this  sort  of  thing,  was  he 
not?  "  said  Mr.  Sligo,  raising  his  elbow  in  a 
significant  manner. 

"  Ah,  too  fond  of  his  glass  of  wine,  you 
mean,  Mr.  Sligo?  Well,  it  was  said  so.  I 
am  afraid  to  a  certain  degree  it  was  so.  We 
all  have  our  failings,  Mr.  Sligo." 

"  Too  true,  Dr.  Lindisfarn.  I  am  not  the 
man  to  forget  it.  I  only  ask  these  things 
because  they  may  have  a  bearing  on  our  pres- 
ent business.  Under  the  circumstances,  I 
suppose  that  some  degree,  perhaps  a  consid- 
erable amount,  of  irregularity  in  church  mat- 
ters may  have  prevailed  in  his  parish?  " 

"  It  may  have  been  so.  There  were  never 
any  complaints,  however.  He  certainly  was 
very  popular  in  the  parish.  The  people  were 
very  much  attached  to  him." 

"  Did  he  inhabit  the  parsonage-house  at 
Chewton  ?  "  asked  the  lawyer. 

"  There  is  no  parsonage-house,  unfortu- 
nately, nor  has  there  been  one  for  several 
generations.  When  the  old  house  fell  down 
in  one  of  the  great  storms  that  often  sweep 
this  moorland  district,  it  was  never  rebuilt." 

"  Are  you  aware  where  the  late  curate  did 
live  then,  sir?  "  asked  Mr.  Sligo. 

"  For  many  years,  for  all  the  latter  part  of 
his  life, — indeed,  during  all  the  time  that  he 
held  the  curacy  under  me, — he  lodged  at  the 
house  of  the  parish  clerk,  a  man  of  the  name 
of  Mallory,  a  very  decent  sort  of  a  person,  I 
fancy." 

"  0 — h  !  the  late  curate  lived  in  the  house 
of  Mr.  Jared  Mallory,  did  he?"  rejoined 
Mr.  Sligo,  with  a  special  expression  of  voice 


and  feature,  that  was  quite  lost  on  Dr.  Lin- 
disfarn. 

"Yes,  it  was  convenient  in  many  ways. 
Mallory  lived  in  a  good  house  of  his  own, 
larger  than  he  heeded  ;  and  it  was  near  the 
church." 

"  And  perhaps  all  the  farther  from — you 
know  the  saying,  Dr.  Lindisfarn,  and  will 
excuse  me  for  being  reminded  of  it  on  this 
occasion,"  said  the  lawyer. 

"No.  I  am  not  aware  of  any  such  popu- 
lar'f.saw  or  saying  !  "  replied  Dr.  Lindisfarn. 
"  But  thie  fact  was  that  it  was  convenient  for 
him.  also  to  be  in  the  same  house  with  the 
parish  clerk,  you  understand." 

"I  see,  sir, — I  see  !  many  years  under  this 
Mallory 's  roof;  a  man  of  that  sort  necessa- 
rily falls  under  the  influence  of  those  about 
him, — parish  clerk  especially  ;  I  see, — I  see! 
I  suppose  this  is  Chewton,  down  in  the  hol- 
low here  in  front  of  us,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,  here  we  are  ;  this  is  Chewton,  but 
you  don't  get  so  good  a  first  view  of  the 
church  coming  this  way,  as  by  the  other  road 
over  the  moor." 

"  I  suppose  our  plan  will  be  to  drive  direct 
to  the  clerk's  house,  sir?  Do  you  know 
which  it  is?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  follow  down  the  main  street  of 
the  village  straight  on  ;  the  church  is  a  little 
to  the  left  at  the  further  end  ;  and  Mallory 's 
is  near  the  bottom  of  the  street  on  the  left- 
hand  side." 

So  Mr.  Sligo  drew  his  fast-trotting -^gare 
and  smart  gig  sharply  up  to  the  door  of  the 
stone  house  with  the  iron  rail  in  front  of  it ; 
and  rather  unceremoniously  throwing  the 
reins  to  Dr.  Lindisfarn,  and  saying  shortly, 
"  I  will  announce  you,  sir,"  sprung  from  the 
gig,  almost  before  it  had  stopped,  and  dashed 
precipitately  into  the  house,  without  any  cer- 
emony of  knocking  or  asking  leave,  what- 
ever. 

CHAPTER   XLir. 
LADY  FARNLEIGH   RETURNS   TO    SILtSHIRE. 

Margaret  waited  at  the  little  door  lead- 
ing from  the  canon's  garden  into  the  Castle 
Head  Lane  till  the  cathedral  clock  chimed  the 
half-hour  past  six. 

It  was  a  raw  night,  and  her  bodily  condi- 
tion at  the  end  of  that  half-hour  was  not  a 
pleasant  one.  But  her  suiferings  from  that 
cause  were  as  nothing— absolutely  nothing — 
to  the  mental  torture  she  endured  during  at 
least  the  latter  half  of  those  never  by  her  to 


be  forgotten  thirty  minutes.  Notliing  but 
licr  own  very  strong  reason  for  ■wishing  that 
tlie  proposed  elopement  should  be  carried  in- 
to effect  could  have  induced  her  to  swallow 
her  bitter  burning  indignation  so  long,  and 
force  herself  to  take  yet  a  little  more  patience. 
We  know  how  important  it  was  to  all  her 
hopes  that  the  thing  should  come  off;  and 
very,  very  cruel  was  the  gradual  growth  dur- 
ing tliose  minutes  of  misgiving  into  despair- 
ing conviction  that  it  was  not  to  be.  For  the 
first  ten  minutes,  she  was  very  angry  with 
her  lover  for  his  ungallant  want  of  punctual- 
ity. And  as  she  stood  with  her  ear  on  the 
stretch,  she  kept  rehearsing  to  herself  the 
clocjuent  upbraiding  with  which  she  prom- 
ised herself  to  punish  his  misdemeanor.  Dur- 
ing the  second  ten  minutes,  anxiety  was  grad- 
ually growing  into  dread  ;  and  during  the 
last  ten,  she  was  suffering  from  the  sickening, 
despairing  certainty  that  all  was  lost. 

Still,  the  true  cause  of  the  miscarriage  of 
her  hopes  and  plans  never  occurred  to  her. 
There  was  no  possibility  apparent  to  her  by 
which  the  fatal  news  could  have  yet  reached 
her  lover's  ear  ;  that  fatal  news  which  she 
had  all  that  month  past  concealed  in  her 
heart  with  a  fortitude  analogous  to  that  of 
the  Spartan  boy,  who  held  the  fox  beneath 
his  cloak,  while  he  gnawed  his  vitals.  Among 
all  the  conjecturings  which  chased  each  other 
tumultuously  through  her  mind  during  the 
whole  of  that  night,  therefore,  the  real  nature 
of  her  misfortune  never  unveiled  itself  to  her 
in  its  full  extent. 

She  stole  back  to  the  house  as  the  half- 
hour  struck,  shivering  without  and  burning 
with  shame  and  indignation  within ;  and 
succeeded  in  slinking  up  to  her  room  without 
having  been  seen.  It  did  not  very  much 
signify  to  her  ;  for  if  she  had  chanced  to 
meet  Elizabeth  on  the  stairs,  she  would 
merely  have  said  that,  finding  her  head  very 
bad,  she  had  gone  down  to  see  whether  the 
cool,  fresh  air  of  the  garden  would  do  it  any 
good. 

The  next  morning,  her  looks,  when  she 
descended  to  her  uncle's  breakfast-room, 
vouched  abundantly  for  the  truth  of  her 
statement  respecting  her  headache. 

Then  in  the  course  of  the  morning  came 
Jlr.  Slowcome  on  his  return  from  the  Chase, 
with  the  great  news  ;  to  the  communication 
of  which  she  listened,  as  has  been  said,  with 


LINDISFARN    CHASE.  227 

all  propriety.     Then  the  causes  of  the  dis- 


appointment of  the  previous  evening  became 
intelligible  to  her.  She  had  at  least  very 
little  doubt  upon  the  subject.  The  truth 
was  known  to  ]\Ir.  Slowcome  yesterday. 
There  was  very  little  room  to  doubt  that 
Falconer  had  heard  it  from  him,  and  had 
thereupon  abandoned  the  projected  elopement 
and  the  marriage  together. 

That  Falconer  should,  on  learning  the  real 
state  of  the  case,  give  up  all  idea  of  the  mar- 
riage, seemed  to  her  so  much  a  matter  of 
course,  and  was  so  wholly  conformable  to  the 
line  of  conduct  which  she  would  have  pur- 
sued herself  in  similar  circumstances,  that 
she  could  not,  in  her  heart,  blame  him  for  it. 
Nor  did  she  pretend  to  herself  that  she  did 
so.  But  it  was  the  manner  of  the  thing. 
To  leave  her  there,  exposed  to  all  the  incon- 
veniences, the  risks,  the  mortifications,  the 
uncertainty.  It  was  brutal,  it  was  cowardly, 
it  was  ungentlemanlike,  it  was  unmanly. 
And  Falconer's  conduct  assuredly  was  all 
this.  And  if  the  gentle  and  lovely  Margaret 
had  had  power  to  give  effect  to  the  prompt- 
ings of  her  heart,  it  would  have  been  well 
that  day  for  Frederick  Falconer,  if  he  could 
have  changed  lots  with  the  most  miserable 
wretch  that  crawled  the  earth. 

The  nest  day, — that  on  which  Mr.  Sligo 
drove  Dr.  Lindisfarn  over  to  Chewton,  as  has 
been  narrated, — IMargaret  returned  to  the 
Chase.  She  would  have  given  much  to  have 
escaped  from  the  necessity  of  doing  so  and  of 
meeting  Kate  under  the  circumstances  ;  but 
there  was  no  possibility  of  avoiding  it.  It 
was  too  obviously  natural  that  her  flither 
should  wish  to  speak  with  her  ;  and  in  fact 
the  intimation  that  she  had  better  return 
home  came  to  l^er  from  him.  Mr.  Mat  came 
for  her  in  the  gig,  soon  after  the  doctor  and 
Mr.  Sligo  had  started  on  their  excursion. 

"  'Tis  a  bad  business, — a  cruel  bad  busi- 
ness," said  Mr.  Mat,  feeling  deep  sympathy 
with  Margaret  on  this  occasion,  though  there 
was  generally  so  little  of  liking  between 
them,  but  though  very  sincerely  feeling  it, 
finding  himself  much  at  a  loss  to  express  it. 
Mr.  Mat  could  not  be  considered  an  eloquent 
man,  certainly,  yet  he  had  found  no  difficulty 
in  speaking  out  what  was  in  his  heart  to  Kate 
on  this  occasion.  It  was  different  with  Mar- 
garet :  "  A  bad  business  ;  and  I  don't  know 
what  I  wouldn't  ha' done  sooner  than  it  should 


228 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


Lave  happened,  Miss  Margaret.  Still,  when 
all  is  said  and  done,  money  is  not  everything 
in  this  world,  Miss  Margaret,  and  " — 

"  I  am  aware,  Mr.  Mat,"  replied  the 
young  lady,  with  tragic  resignation,  "  that 
virtue  alone  is  of  real  value,  or  can  confer 
real  happiness  in  this  world." 

Mr.  Mat  gave  her  a  queer,  furtive  look  out 
of  the  tail  of  his  shrewd  black  eye  ;  but  he 
only  said,  "  Ay,  to  be  sure,  and  with  such 
looks  as  yours,  too  " — 

"  Beauty  is  but  a  fleeting  flower,"  said 
Margaret,  in  very  bad  humor,  but  still  minded 
as  usual  to  play  her  part  correctly,  and  say 
the  proper  things  to  be  said. 

"  But  'tis  the  sweetest  flower  that  blows 
while  itdoeslast,"  said  the  gallant  Mr.  Mat. 

"  I  have  ever  been  taught  to  set  but  small 
store  by  it,"  sighed  Margaret ;  and  then  there 
was  a  long  pause  in  their  conversation,  which 
lasted  till  Mr.  ]\Iat  began  to  walk  his  horse 
up  the  steepest  part  of  the  hill,  going  up 
from  the  Ivy  Bridge  to  the  Lindisfarn  lodge- 
gates. 

"-I  don't  believe  it ;  I  wont  and  can't  be- 
lieve it,"  he  then  said,  as  the  result  of  his 
meditations. 

"Believe  what,  Mr.  Mat?"  asked  Mar- 
garet. 

"  Believe  that  the  child  they  want  to  set 
up  as  the  heir  is  your  Cousin  Julian's  lawful 
son.  Miss  Margaret." 

"You  don't  say  so,  Mr.  Mat?"  cried 
Margaret,  in  a  very  dififerent  tone  of  voice 
from  that  in  which  she  had  before  spoken. 

"1  rfw,"  said  Mr.  Mat,  very  decisively; 
"  but  not  believing  is  one  thing,  mind  you, 
and  finding  out  is  another." 

"  What  do  you  think  is  the  truth,  then, 
Mr.  Mat?  "  said  Margaret,  in  a  more  kindly 
tone  than  she  had  ever  before  used  to  her 
companion. 

"  I  don't  know  ;  but  I  zem  there's  a  screw 
loose  somewhere ;  I  don't  believe  'tis  all 
right." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Mat !  do  you  think  it  would  be 
possible  to  find  it  out?  " 

"Ah,  that's  the  thing;  they  are  'cute 
chaps  ;  and  that  fellow  Jared  INIallory,  the 
attoi-ncy,  is  a  regular  bad  'un.  But  maybe 
the  play  is  not  all  played  out  yet.  Here 
we  arc.  Miss  Margaret ;  and  welcome  home 
to  the  old  place  !  " 

Kate  was  on  the  steps  waiting  to  meet  her 


sister,  and  seized  her  in  her  arms  as  she  got 
down  from  the  gig. 

"  Come  up-stairs,  dear.  Papa  is  out  about 
the  place  somewhere.  He  will  see  you  before 
dinner." 

Margaret  kissed  her  sister  somewhat  stiffly 
and  ungraciously,  and  proceeded  to  follow 
her  up  the  stairs  in  silence.  When  they 
were  together  in  Kate's  room,  the  latter 
said, — 

"You  know,  I  suppose,  Margaret,  how 
the  news  came  out.  You  are  aware  that  it 
was  communicated  to  Mr.  Slowcome,  and  he 
came  up  here  to  tell  us  yesterday  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know  it  all !  "  said  Marga- 
ret. 

' '  And — and — yourself^your  own  affairs  ?' ' 
hesitated  Kate,  whose  great  anxiety  on  her 
sister's  behalf  would  not  let  her  be  silent, 
though  she  felt  a  difficulty  in  asking  for  ex- 
planations which,  according  to  her  own  feel- 
ings, should  have  come  so  spontaneously  from 
sister  to  sister. 

"  Everything  is  broken  off  between  me 
and  Mr.  Falconer,  Kate,  if  that  is  what  you 
are  alluding  to, — broken  off  now  and  for- 
ever, whatever  may  be  the  result  of  the 
doubts  that  have  arisen." 

"  Doubts  that  have  arisen,  dear  Margaret? 
I  fear  the  nature  of  the  case  has  not  been 
fully  explained  to  you.  Alas  !  there  are  no 
doubts  about  the  matter.'' 

"  I  have  spoken  with  the  lawyer  myself, 
Kate,  and  prefer  to  trust  to  ray  own  impres- 
sions," said  Margaret,  whose  sole  idea  that 
there  might  be  any  doubt  about  the  matter 
arose  from  the  words  which  had  dropped 
from  !Mr.  ^lat  in  the  gig. 

"  I  fear  that  you  are  deluding  yourself 
with  a  baseless  hope,  Margaret,"  said  Kate, 
shaking  her  head  sadly.  "  But  I  know  that 
the  change  in  our  position  has  not  been  the 
worst  unhappiness  you  have  had  to  struggle 
with,  dearest  Margaret;  and  my  heart  has 
been  very  heavy  for  you  ;  for  I  feared, — I 
feared,  Margaret,  as  I  told  you,  that  he  was 
not  worthy  of  the  great  faith  and  trust  you 
placed  in  him." 

"  Mr.  Falconer  has  behaved  very  badly. 
It  would  be  agreeable  to  me  never,  if  that 
were  possible,  to  hear  his  name  again.  I 
hope,  at  all  events,  not  to  have  to  hear  it 
from  you ,  Kate  !  "  And  it  was  clear  that 
Margaret  intended  that  the  whole  topic  of 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


her  engagement  should  be  closed  and  walled 
up  between  her  and  Kate. 

"  It  was  a  very  great  shock  to  poor  papa 
at  first,"  said  Kate  ;  "  and  it  was  very  pain- 
ful to  me,  as  you  may  suppose,  to  be  obliged 
to  conceal  from  him  that  I  had  known  it  all 
along  ;  but  there  was  no  help  for  it.  But 
the  worst  is  not  over,  ^largaret  ;  Lady  Farn 
leigh  is  coming  home  in  a  day  or  two  ;  and 
I  do  dread  the  having  a  concealment  be- 
tween her  and  me.  It  is  a  great,  great  com- 
fort that  she  is  coming  home, — a  comfort  that 
I  have  been  longing  for  these  many  weeks. 
And  now  the  happiness  of  seeing  her  is  al- 
most all  spoilt  by  the  necessity  of  keeping 
this  miserable  secret  from  her  knowledge. 
And  it  is  not  so  easy  a  matter,  let  me  tell 
you,  ^largaret,  to  keep  a  secret  from  god- 
mamma  as  it  is  from  dear  old  Noll." 

'••  You  don't  mean  to  say,  Kate,  that  you 
are  going  to  break  your  promise,  and  betray 
me  !  You  are  not  going  to  put  it  into  the 
power  of  that  woman  to  ruin  me  !  " 

"  ^Margaret,  JMargaret — that  woman!  and 
ruin  you !  For  Heaven's  sake,  do  not  speak 
in  such  a  way  ;  and  worse  still,  have  such 
thoughts  in  your  heart." 

"  That's  all  nonsense,  Kate  ;  Lady  Farn- 
leigh  is  not  my  godmother.  It  is  plain 
enough  to  see  that  she  detests  me,  I  saw 
that  clearly  the  first  day  I  came  here  ;  I  saw 
her  jealousy  for  her  favorite — as  if  it  were 
my  fault  that —  I  tell  you  she  hates  me  ;  and 
it  would  be  delightful  to  her  to  have  it  in  her 
power  to  twit  and  expose  me,  and — I  had 
rather  die  than  that  Lady  Farnleigh,  of  all 
the  people  in  the  world,  should  know — all 
about  it !  I  had  rather  die  !  "  repeated  Mar- 
garet, with  a  flash  of  her  eyes  that  perfectly 
startled  her  sister. 

On  the  next  day  but  one  to  that  on  which 
this  conversation  passed  between  the  two  sis- 
ters, Lady  Farnleigh  returned  to  Wanstrow, 
and  showed  her  impatience  to  see  her  darling 
Kate  under  the  unhappy  circumstances  that 
had  fallen  upon  her  by  driving  over  to  Lin- 
disfarn  that  same  evening.  She  arrived  at 
the  Chase  in  time  for  dinner,  but  during  that 
meal,  of  course,  nothing  was  said  of  the  sub- 
ject that  was  uppermost  in  all  their  hearts. 

After  dinner,  as  the  ladies  were  crossing 
the  hall  to  the  drawing-room,  Lady  Farn- 
leigh made  a  sign  to  Kate  to  let  Miss  Immy 
and  Margaret  go  on  to  the  drawing-room, 
and  to  escape  up-stairs  with  her  to  her  room. 


229 

It  was  not  an  unprecedented  escapade  of  her 
ladyship's. 

"  And  now  tell  me  all  about  it,  my  dear, 
dear  girl — my  poor  dear  Kate  !  Has  it  hit 
your  father  very  hard  ?  " 

"  It  was  a  hard  blow  at  first, — very  hard. 
But  you  know  my  dear  father, — dear  old 
Noll !  Y'ou  know  his  cheery,  hearty  nature. 
Sorrow  cannot  stick  to  him  ;  it  runs  ofl'  like 
water  oflT  a  duck's  back ;  his  genial  strong 
nature  turns  it.  Nevertheless,  I  am  sure  he 
has  felt  it  deeply  ;  if  he  could  only  have 
known  the  truth  earlier  in  life,  he  says. 
Poor  dear,  dear  Noll !  And  I  cannot  say  all 
that  I  would  to  comfort  him,  you  see,  be- 
cause the  misfortune  hits  poor  Margaret 
more  severely  than  it  does  me.  Thanks  to 
a  certain  good  fairy  that  stood  by  at  my 
christening,  you  know,  I  am  sufl&ciently  well 
provided  for,"  said  Kate,  creeping  close  up 
to  her  godmother's  side. 

"Sufficiently  provided  for!  You  know 
very  little,  my  poor  child,  of  what  pounds, 
shillings,  and  pence  can  do,  and  what  they 
can't.  If  you  mean  that  you  need  never 
come  'upon  the  parish,  as  far  as  that  goes 
you  may  probably  be  easy.  You  want  but 
little  here  below,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  I 
dare  say.  But  Birdie  wants  her  oats,  and 
plenty  of  them,  and  a  good  groom  to  wait  on 
her.  It  is  all  very  fine  talking,  Kate,  and 
the  headings  to  the  copybooks  may  say  what 
they  please  ;  but  poverty  is  a  bitter  thing  to 
those  who  have  to  make  acquaintance  with  it 
for  the  first  time  in  the  midst  of  a  life  of 
ease  and  abundance." 

"Well,  you  are  a  Job's  comforter,  you 
bad  fairy,  I  must  say,"  cried  Kate,  laughing. 

"  I  don't  like  it,  Kate,  and  I  can't  pretend 
to  say  that  I  do.  It  is  a  great  misfortune, 
and  there  is  no  wisdom  in  pretending  to  our- 
selves that  it  is  not  so." 

"  I  have  still  so  much  to  be  thankful  for, — 
60  much  that  ought  to  make  happiness,"  said 
Kate,  with  rather  suspicious  emphasis  on  the 
word  "  ought." 

"  Yes,  that  is  all  very  pretty  spoken,  and 
proper — and  it's  true,  indeed — which  is  more 
than  could  be  said  for  all  pretty  and  proper 
speeches.  But  now,  goddaughter,  we  have 
pt  to  discuss  another  chapter.  Yes,  you 
know  what  is  coming.  Miss  Kate  ;  I  see  your 
guilt  in  your  face.  How  dare  you  take  ad- 
vantage of  ray  back  being  turned  to  break  my 
dear  friend's  heart'? " 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


230 

Kate  looked  up  into  Lady  Farnleigh's  face 
with  an  expression  tiiat  caused  her  at  once  to 
change  her  tone. 

"  If  I  try  to  laugh,  ray  own  darling,  it 
is  to  save  crying,"  she  said,  putting  her 
arm  around  Kate's  neck,  and  pressing  the 
gracious  drooping  head  against  her  bosom  ; 
for  they  had  been  standing  side  by  side  in 
front  of  the  low  fire  in  Kate's  room.  What 
is  it,  my  Kate  ?  Tell  me  all  that  there  is  in 
this  dear,  good,  honest  heart,  which  I  feel 
beating,  beating,  as  if  it  would  burst.  Tell 
me  all  about  it,  my  own  child." 

It  was  true  enough,  as  Lady  Farnleigh 
said,  that  Kate's  agitation  was  becoming 
more  and  more  painful,  as  her  friend  spoke. 
Her  bosom  rose  and  fell  with  long-drawn  sighs, 
that,  despite  her  utmost  efforts  to  suppress 
them,  gradually  became  sobs.  Slowly  the 
great  clear  tear-drops  which  had  been  gath- 
ering in  her  eyes  beneath  the  downcast  lids 
brimmed  over,  and  rolled  down  her  pale 
cheeks,  till  suddenly  flinging  herself  into  a 
chair  by  her  side,  she  fell  into  such  a  storm 
of  hysterical  weeping  that  Lady  Farnleigh 
became  at  once  convinced,  not  without  as- 
tonishment, that  there  was  something  more 
than  the  patent  circumstances  of  the  case 
could  account  for,  to  occasion  so  violent  and 
so  painful  an  emotion.  For  violence  of  emo- 
tion, hysterics,  and  the  like,  and  even  tears, 
were  quite  out  of  Kate's  usual  way.  It  was 
very  evident  to  Lady  Farnleigh,  as  she  looked 
on  the  convulsed  face  and  bosom  of  her 
dearly  loved  godchild,  with  sympathizing 
sorrow  and  almost  with  alarm  expressed  in 
her  own  face,  that  there  was  some  serious 
cause  for  grief  here,  beyond  those  of  which 
she  was  cognizant. 

She  had  heard  in  a  few  short  lines  from 
Captain  Ellingham  of  his  rejection,  and  of 
the  change  of  station  which  he  had  under 
happier  circumstances  looked  forward  to  as 
such  a  misfortune,  but  which  he  was  now 
disposed  to  consider  as  a  most  lucky  escape 
from  scenes  and  associations  which  had  be- 
come intolerable  to  him.  She  had  heard  this, 
and  had  heard  it  with  some  surprise  and  a 
little  vexation,  but  had  flattered  herself  that 
some  of  the  many  misunderstandings,  or  shy- 
nesses, or  cross-purposes,  which  are  so  apt  to 
interfere  with  the  precise  intercommunica- 
tion of  people's  sentiments  and  purposes  in 
such  matters,  would  be  found  to  have  caused 


all  the  mischief,  and  a  little  judicious  inter- 
mediation would  put  it  all  right.  But  now 
the  fearful  state  of  agitation  into  which  Kate 
had  been  thrown  by  the  mere  mention  of  the 
subject,  showed  her  that  it  was  no  mere  aifiiir 
of  girlish  coyness,  or  even  of  the  rejection  of 
a  suitor  whom  she  could  not  love.  There 
was  something  else, — something  more  than 
all  this  ;  and  influenced  by  the  purest  and 
truest  desire  to  find  the  means  of  comfort  for 
so  great  a  sorrow,  she  determined  to  get  to 
the  bottom  of  the  matter  in  some  way. 

But  it  was  evident  that  the  heart  wound 
was  not  at  that  moment  in  a  state  to  endure 
the  probe,  even  in  the  tenderest  hands.  So 
she  applied  herself  to  soothing  the  weeping 
girl  as  well  as  she  could,  without  any  at- 
tempt to  continue  the  subject. 

"You  have  been  too  much  shaken,  my 
poor  Kate,  by  all  these  things  ;  we  wiH  not 
speak  now  on  painful  subjects.  Hereafter, 
when  you  are  calmer,  and  your  spirits  have 
recovered  their  usual  tone, — hereafter  you 
shall  tell  me  all  you  can  feel  a  comfort  in 
telling." 

"  Indeed,  indeed,  godmamma,  I  have  no 
wish  to  have  secrets  from  you  !  I — I  " — and 
hiding  her  face  on  Lady  Farnleigh's  shoulder, 
she  burst  anew  into  a  passion  of  tears. 

"  There,  there,  my  darling,  we  will  speak 
no  more  of  it  now  ;  another  time,  another 
time.  There,  my  Kate,  your  tears  will 
have  done  you  good  ,  there,  you  will  be 
calmer  now,  my  child!"  and  Lady  Farn- 
leigh soothed  her  on  her  bosom  as  she  spoke, 
as  a  nurse  soothes  a  sufiering  infant. 

After  a  little  while,  Kate  became  calmer  ; 
and,  having  dried  her  tears,  but  with  a  still 
quivering  lip,  said  to  her  friend, — 

"  But  you  know,  dearest  godmamma,  that 
it  was  all  for  the  best ;  what  should  we  have 
done,  think,  if  Captain  Ellingham  had  been 
accepted  by  me,  when  he  supposed  that  1 
possessed  fortune  enough  for  all  our  require- 
ments, and  then  " — 

"  Do  you  imagine,  Kate,  that  Ellingham 
proposed  to  you  because  you  were  an  heir- 
ess ? ' ' 

"No,  no,  that  I  am  sure,  quite  sure,  he 
did  not,"  replied  Kate,  with  an  energy  which 
Lady  Farnleigh  marked,  and  made  a  note  of 
in  her  mind. 

"Well,  then?  "said  she. 

"  But  that  is  a  very  different  thing  from 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


231 


proposing  to  a  girl  supposed  to  be  a  largo 
heiress,  and  then  finding  that  she  has  notli- 


"  Yes,  it  is  different.  It  would  be  fair  in 
such  a  case  to  give  back  to  a  man  his  entire 
liberty, — fair  too  to  hold  him  blameless  if  he 
availed  himself  of  it  to  retire  from  a  position 
he  never  intended  to  occupy." 

"  But  it  would  be  very  unfair, "exclaimed 
Kate,  '•■  to  expose  a  man  to  such  a  painful 
ordeal." 

"Very  unfair;  but  you  are  talking  non- 
sense, Kate,  dear.  Such  unfairness  as  you 
speak  of  would  imply  that  the  lady  was 
aware  of  the  mistake  respecting  her  fortune. 
Of  course,  no  good  girl  would  be  guilty  of 
such  conduct  as  that.  But  what  has  that  to 
do  with  the  present  case?  " 

"  I  only  said,  dear  godmamma,  that  it  was 
all  for  the  best  as  it  turned  out,  since  Cap- 
tain EUingham  had  no  intention  of  proposing 
to  a  girl  who  had  nothing  to  help  toward  the 
expenses  of  a  home." 

"  That,  my  dear  Kate,  is  a  matter  for  Cap- 
tain EUingham's  consideration ;  and  what 
his  sentiments  upon  that  point  are,  you  have 
no  means  of  knowing." 

"  I  do  know,  at  all  events,  that  he  does 
not  imagine  that  I  refused  him  because  I  had, 
or  was  supposed  to  have,  much  more  money 
than  he  had.  I  do  know  that,  for  he  told 
me  so  in  the  most  noble  and  generous  man- 
ner;  and  it  is  a  great,  great  comfort,"  said 
Kate,  and  the  now  silent  tears  began  to  drop 
anew. 

Lady  Farnleigh  observed  the  emotion  which 
the  mention  of  this  circumstance  caused 
Kate,  and  added  a  mem.  of  it  to  the  note  she 
had  already  taken. 

"If,  indeed,  you  had  known  of  the  strange 
circumstances  which  have  come  to  light  and 
have  so  materially  altered  your  prospects, 
at  the  time  you  rejected  EUingham's  offer, 
it  would  all  have  been  intelligible  enough  ; 
and  it  would  have  been  for  him  to  renew  his 
suit  under  the  changed  circumstances  of  the 
case,  or  not,  as  he  might  think  fit ;  but  that 
was  not  the  case.  If  he  were  now  to  do  so, 
it  would  be  insulting  to  suppose  that  you 
might  accept  a  man  in  your  poverty  whom 
you  had  rejected  in  your  wealth." 

"Oh,  Lady  Farnleigh,  the  bare  thought 
is  hideous,"  cried  Kate,  seeming  to  shrink 
bodily,  as  from  a  stab,  while  she  spoke, — 
"  hideous  ;  and  Captain  Ellingham  is  inca- 


pable of  conceiving  such  an  idea.  He  will 
never  repeat  his  offer.  As  you  say,  it  would 
be  offensive  to  me  to  do  so, — in  a  manner  in 
which  it  is  impossible  that  be  should  offend." 

Again  Lady  Farnleigh  silently  added  an- 
other note  to  her  mental  tablets. 

"  And  what  is  all  this  about  your  sister 
Margaret?"  continued  she,  willing  to  lead 
Kate's  mind  away,  for  the  nonce,  from  the 
subject  of  her  own  affairs.  "  I  hear  that  she 
was  engaged  to  jNIr.  Falconer  ;  and  what  is 
to  become  of  that  engagement  now?  "      i 

"  It  is  all  true,  godmamma,  too  true.  She 
ivas  engaged  to  ^Ir.  Falconer.  Papa  had 
given  his  consent,  and  the  settlements  were 
being  made  out.  But  it  is  all  broken  off 
now." 

"Oh,  it's  all  off  now.     And  how  long  had 


it  been  on. 


pray 


"  It  is  a  little  more  than  a  month  since 
she  accepted  him,  I  think,"  replied  Kate, 
remembering  vividly  enough  that  miserable 
and  memorable  day  so  soon  after  that  inter- 
view with  her  cousin  in  the  cottage  at  Deep 
Creek. 

"  A  month  ago,  was  it?  "  said  Lady  Farn- 
leigh, musing. 

"  Yes,  about  a  month  ago.  But  we  have 
seen  very  little  of  it  all  up  here  at  the  Chase. 
Margaret  has  been  almost  constantly  down 
in  Silverton  with  Lady  Sempronia  and  my 
uncle." 

"  And  when  did  the  break-offtake  place  ? " 

"  Oh,  just  the  other  day." 

"  On  the  news  of  this  unlucky  discovery 
about  the  property,  of  course  ?  " 

"  I  presume  so,  of  course.  But  Margaret 
is  not  communicative  about  it.  She  does  not 
like  speaking  on  the  subject,  naturally 
enough." 

"  And  what  did  the  gentleman  say  for 
himself?  How  well  I  judged  that  man, 
Kate  !  " 

"  I  have  no  idea  how  it  was  brought  about, 
or  what  passed.  I  know  that  Margaret  con- 
siders herself  to  have  been  very  ill-treated. 
She  said  briefly  that  all  was  off  between 
them,  and  that  she  wished  she  could  never 
hear  his  name  again." 

"So,  so,  so,  so.  Well,  my  dear,  I  dare 
say  she  has  been  ill-treated.  My  notion  is, 
that  Master  Fred  is  a  man  to  behave  ill  in 
such  circumstances.  There  are  more  wayf 
than  one  of  doing  a  thing.  But  still  it  it 
right  to  bear  in  mind  what  we  were  saying 


232 

just  now,  you  know,  of  the  unfairness  of 
holding  a  man  to  an  engagement  made  un- 
der very  diffei'ent  circumstances." 

"Of  course,  godmamma.  I  don't  know 
at  all  how  matters  passed  between  Margaret 
and  Mr.  Falconer.  The  making  of  the  en- 
gagement and  the  breaking  of  it  were  both 
done  down  in  the  Close." 

— "Unreasonable  to  expect  that  a  man 
should  consider  himself  bound  by  such  an 
engagement  under  such  circmstances,"  con- 
tinued Lady  Farnleigh,  more  as  if  she  were 
talking  to  herself  than  to  her  companion, 
"  and  yet  a  man  must  be  a  great  cur  ;  I  dare 
say  Mr.  Frederick  Falconer  did  it  very  bru- 
tally. At  all  events,  he  lost  no  time  about 
it.  What  day  was  it  that  the  facts  about 
this  new  claim  were  known  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Slowcomc  came  up  here  to  papa,  on 
the  Thursday  morning.  It  must  have  been 
known  to  everybody  in  the  course  of  that 
day.  Mr.  Falconer  may  have  heard  of  it 
even  on  the  previous  evening." 

"  And  ivhcn  did  you  say  the  break-off  be- 
tween them  took  place  ?  " 

"  I  only  know  that  when  Margaret  came 
home  on  the  Saturday,  she  told  me  that  it 
was  all  off." 

"  From  the  Thursday  morning  to  the  Fri- 
day night ;  that  was  the  time  he  had  to  do 
it  in.  Upon  my  word,  Master  Freddy  must 
have  shown  himself  worthy  of  the  occasion  ! 
Why,  he  must  have  jammed  his  helm  hard 
up,  and  laid  his  vessel  on  her  beam  ends  at 
the  very  first  sight  of  the  breakers  ahead." 

"  He  certainly  could  not  have  lost  much 
time  in  making  up  his  mind  about  it,"  Kate 
admitted. 

"  And  what  had  I  better  say  to  her  on  the 
subject?  "  said  Lady  Farnleigh,  after  a  short 
pause,  during  which  she  had  been  thinking 
over  the  circumstances  of  this  broken  match, 
as  far  as  they  were  patent  to  her,  with  a  re- 
sulting estimate  of  the  actors  in  the  little 
drama  not  very  favorable  to  either  of  them. 

"  Well,  I  am  sure  Margaret  would  be  best 
pleased  by  your  saying  nothing  at  all." 

"  Then  nothing  at  all  will  I  say  ;  I  am 
sure  there  is  nothing  agreeable  or  useful  to 
be  said  ;  and  1  have  no  wish  to  pain  or  annoy 
her.  And  now  I  suppose,  my  pet,  that  we 
must  go  down  into  the  drawing-room.  Your 
father  and  Mr.  I\Iat  will  have  come  in  from 
their  wine  by  this  time ;  and  1  want  to  have 
a  little  chat  with  ]Mr.  Mat.     I  suppose  Mar- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


garet  wont  think  me  a  brute  for  saying  no 
word  of  condolence  to  her,  respecting  the 
mangled  condition  of  her  heart." 

"  Now,  godmamma,  I  must  not  let  you  be 
savage  and  spiteful  about  poor  Margaret," 
said  Kate,  with  a  faint  attempt  at  a  smile. 
"  I  am  sure  she  must  have  suffered." 

"  Well !  I  wont  be  savage  and  spiteful ; 
au  contraire,  you  unreasonable  Kate,  was  I  not 
debating  with  myself  whether  or  no  it  would 
be  more  civil  to  attempt  any  binding  up  of 
her  wounds  by  my  condolences  ?  But  I  sup- 
pose not  ;  I  do  not  think  it  is  a  case  for  my 
surgery;  lam  sure  I  wish  to  be  civil,  not 
spiteful.  But — there  !  I  don't  want  to  med- 
dle with  it.  But  if  you  were  to  hang  and 
quarter  me,  my  dear,  I  cannot  be  sympathetic 
and  tearful  over  the  loves  of  Miss  Margaret 
and  Mr.  Frederick,  whether  the  course  of 
them  runs  smooth  or  crosswise." 

So  Kate  and  her  fairy  godmother  went 
down  into  the  drawing-room  ;  where  they 
found  the  squire  fast  asleep  in  his  favorite 
corner  of  the  fireplace ;  Miss  Immy  sitting 
bolt  upright  in  a  small  chair  at  the  table, 
tranquilly  reading  her  "  Clarissa  llarlowe," 
with  a  pair  of  candles  immediately  in  front 
of  her ;  Mr.  Mat  busily  engaged  in  weaving 
the  meshes  of  a  landing-net,  at  a  table  by 
himself  in  the  further  part  of  the  room,  si- 
lently whistling  a  tune  over  his  work, — if 
the  phrase  is  a  permissible  one  for  the  de- 
scription of  a  performance  which  consisted,  as 
far  as  outward  manifestations  went,  only  of 
the  movement  of  the  lips  and  eyebrows — 
and  Miss  Margaret  half  reclining  elegantly 
on  a  sofa,  unoccupied  save  in  chewing  the 
cud  of  sweet  and  bitter  fancy.  Her  attitude 
was  unexceptionable,  and  her  occupation  very 
pardonable.  Nevertheless,  some  hidden  con- 
sciousness or  other  made  her  spring  up  and 
reseat  herself  in  a  primmer  fashion,  as  the 
door  opened  and  Lady  Farnleigh  and  her  sis- 
ter came  in. 

"I  was  afraid  Mr.  Banting  would  have 
brought  the  tea  in.  Miss  Immy,  and  that  you 
would  have  waited  for  us,"  said  Lady  Farn- 
leigh. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no !  "  said  Miss  Immy,  as  if 
her  guest  had  suggested  the  most  absurd  im- 
possibility ;  "  it  wants  five  minutes  to  teatime 
yet." 

"  Indeed !  Well,  1  shall  spend  these  five 
minutes  in  a  teie-a-lete  with  Mr.  Mat,  over 
there  at  his  separate  establishment,  and  try 


LINDISFA 

whether  I  can't  make  him  miss  a  mesh  at 
least  once  in  every  minute." 

"  Not  you,  Latly  Farnleigli,"  said  Mr. 
Mat.  But,  nevertheless,  it  might  have  been 
observed  that  Mr.  Mat's  netting  made  but 
very  little  progress  from  that  time  till  tlie 
tea  was  brought. 

CHAPTER    XLIir. 
LADY    FAKNLKIGII   CATCHES   AN   IDEA. 

Ladv  Farx LEIGH  slept  at  the  Chase  that 
night,  as  she  usually  did  on  the  occasion  of 
her  visits.  She  had,  also,  as  her  wont  was, 
ridden  over  from  Wanstrow,  sending  what 
she  needed  for  her  stay  at  the  Chase  through 
Silver  ton,  and  retaining  her  own  horse  at 
Lindisfarn,  but  sending  back  to  Wanstrow 
the  groom  who  had  ridden  behind  her.  At 
breakfast  the  next  moi'ning  she  said, — 

"I  hope  you  have  not  forgotten  your 
promise,  Mr.  Mat.  Mr.  Mat  and  I  are  go- 
ing to  ride  into  Silverton  this  morning.  It 
is  not  very  civil,  is  it,  Kate,  to  run  off  and 
leave  you  in  such  a  fashion  the  first  morning? 
But  I  can't  help  it.  I  have  all  sorts  of  things 
to  do,  and  people  to  see,  so  that  there  would 
be  no  pleasant  ride  to  be  got.  "Wc  will  have 
a  good  gallop  together  to-morrow,  Katie  dear. 
But  to-day  I  invite  only  Mr.  Mat  to  ride  with 
me,  because  there  will  be  nothing  but  what 
is  disagreeable  to  be  done." 

"  Always  ready  for  the  worst  that  can 
happen  in  your  ladyship's  company,"  said 
Mr.  Mat. 

Margaret  glanced  up  at  Lady  Farnleigh's 
face  with  a  sharp,  uneasy  look,  as  the  latter 
had  spoken  of  the  various  things  she  had  to 
do  and  people  to  see  in  Silverton  ;  but  she 
quickly  dropped  her  eyes  again  on  her  break- 
fast plate,  and  did  not  say  anything.  As  soon, 
however,  as  Lady  Farnleigh  and  Mr.  Mat  had, 
almost  immediately  after  breakfast,  mounted 
their  liorses  and  ridden  away  towards  the 
lodge  on  the  road  to  Silverton,  and  the  squire 
had  somewhat  listlessly  sauntered  back  into 
his  study,  and  ^Miss  Immy  had  bustled  off  to 
her  domestic  cares,  Margaret  said  to  her  sis- 
ter,— 

"  I  wonder,  Kate,  that  your  favorite  god- 
mamma  did  not  invite  you  to  ride  witli  her  ; 
it  is  so  long  since  you  have  had  a  ride  to- 
gether." 

"  Yes,  and  I  should  have  liked  a  good  gal- 
I021  over  the  common  towards  Weston  well 
enough,"  said  Kate;   "but  you  heard   her 


RN    CHASE.  233 

say  that  she  had  several  people  to  sec  in  Sil- 
verton." 

"  I  wonder  who  it  is  she  has  gone  to  see  ?  " 
rejoined  ^largaret,  after  a  pause. 

"»  How  should  I  know  ?  She  has  a  great 
many  friends  in  Silverton,  and  business  peo- 
ple to  see  besides,  very  likely." 

"  But  all  her  friends  are  acquaintances  of 
yours.  Why  should  she  not  have  taken  you 
with  her?  "  persisted  Margaret. 

"  She  would  easily  guess  that  I  am  not 
much  in  a  humor  for  visiting,"  returned 
Kate,  "  as  in  good  truth  I  am  not." 

"  I  wonder  why  she  took  Mr.  Mat  with 
her?  "  still  continued  Margaret,  ponder- 
ing, and  evidently  not  at  all  satisfied  with 
Kate's  answers.  "  Will  she  call  in  the  Close, 
do  you  suppose,  Kate  ?  " 

"  Very  likely.  She  did  not  say  anything 
to  me  about  it,"  answered  Kate,  carelessly. 

"  Did  you  observe  how  closely  she  and 
Mr.  Mat  were  talking  together  last  night 
in  the  drawing-room  ?  "  said  Margaret,  still, 
as  it  seemed,  uneasy  about  the  visit  to  Sil- 
verton. 

"  Not  particularly.  But  it  is  very  likely. 
They  are  very  old  friends  and  allies,  my  god- 
mamma  and  Mr.  Mat." 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  am  sure  they  were  planning 
something  about  what  they  are  gone  to  Sil- 
verton for  this  morning  !  "  said  JNIargaret. 

"  Nothing  more  likely.  But  what  in  the 
world  have  you  got  into  your  head,  INIarga- 
ret,  about  Lady  Farnleigh's  ride  to  Silver- 
ton?" 

"Oh,  I  know  what  I  know,  and  I  think 
what  I  think.  I've  a  notion  that  she  is  gone 
to  plot  and  plan,  or  meddle,  or  make  in  some 
way  about  our  affairs.  And  however  much 
you  may  like  that,  Kate,  I  don't  like  it.  I 
don't  like  her,  as  you  well  know  ;  and  I  don't 
at  all  want  her  to  interfere  with  any  affairs 
of  mine." 

"  Why,  how  should  she  interfere,  Marga- 
ret? I  can't  guess  what  you  are  thinking 
of,"  said  Kate,  much  surprised  ;  "  and  I  am 
so  sorry,  more  sorry  than  you  can  think," 
she  added,  "  that  you  have  taken  such  an  un- 
reasonable dislike  to  my  dear,  dear  godmoth- 
er. You  may  depend  on  it,  Margaret,  that 
we  have  not  a  better  friend  in  the  world  than 
Lady  Farnleigh." 

"  That  is  to  say,  she  is  your  friend,"  re- 
turned Margaret,  with  a  strong  emphasis  on 
the  possessive  pronoun. 


234 


UNDISFARN    CHASE. 


"  My  friend,  and  your  friend,  and  Noll's 
friend ,  and  the  dearest  friend  our  mother  had 
in  the  world,  Margaret !  " 

"  That's  all  very  well,  Kate,  for  you.  But 
I  like  choosing  my  friends  for  myself,"  said 
Margaret. 

Meanwhile  Lady  Farnleigh  and  Mr.  Mat 
were  walking  their  horses  leisurely  down  the 
road  that  led  toward  the  Ivy  Bridge. 

"  This  is  a  very  sad  affair,  Mr.  Mat.  Do 
you  think  the  squire  feels  it  very  deeply  ?  " 
said  her  ladyship. 

"  It  is  the  worst  piece  of  business  that 
ever  happened  at  Lindisfarn,  Lady  Farnleigh. 
The  squire — God  bless  him  ! — is  one  of  those 
who  think  that  care  killed  a  cat ;  and  he  will 
none  on't.  But  he  feels  it, — he  feels  it  for 
all  that,  you  may  depend  on  it." 

"  And  my  darling  Kate !  she  is  not  like 
herself, — neither  mind  nor  body.  Do  you 
think,  Mr.  Mat,  that  she  is  fretting  about 
it  ?  I  should  not  have  thought  that  it  would 
have  affected  her  so  deeply." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  Lady  Farnleigh.  Kate's 
not  a-fretting  after  the  acres.  That's  another 
bad  matter, — another  and  not  the  same." 

"  How  another — what  other?"  said  Lady 
Farnleigh,  who,  having  been  obliged  to  quit 
the  subject  of  Ellingham's  offer  to  Kate,  in 
the  manner  that  has  been  seen,  had  failed 
to  learn  whether  the  fact  had  become  known 
to  any  of  the  members  of  the  family,  and 
was  anxious  to  ascertain  this  point. 

"  Ah  !  that's  the  question,"  said  Mr.  Mat, 
with  a  deep  sigh, — "  that's  just  what  I  should 
thank  anybody  to  tell  me.  I  don't  suppose 
there's  been  a  day  for  the  last  fortnight  that 
the  squire  and  I  have  not  talked  it  over  after 
dinner.  Squire's  a  deal  more  down  in  the 
mouth  about  Kate  than  he  is  about  the 
property.  As  you  say,  Lady  Farnleigh,  she 
is  noways  like  the  same  girl  she  used  to  be. 
Body  or  mind,  be  it  which  it  may,  or  both, 
she  is  amiss,  and  far  amiss  somehow." 

"  It  is  some  time,  then,  that  she  has  been 
in  the  state  she  is  ?  "  asked  Lady  Farnleigh . 

"  Yes,  a  spell  now, — ever  since  that  silly 
business  of  a  match  between  jMiss  Margaret 
and  Freddy  Falconer,  ugh!  "  grunted  Mr. 
Mat,  with  an  expression  of  infinite  disgust. 

"  Ever  since  the  announcement  of  her  sis- 
ter's engagement,"  said  Lady  Farnleigh, 
musingly.  "  It  has  clearly  nothing  to  do, 
then,  with  the  discovery  of  her  cousin's  mar- 


riage, and  of  the  existence  of  a  male  heir  to 
the  property?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing, — nothing  at  all.  That  is 
what  I  say  ;  it  came  befoi'e  all  that." 

"  And  there  has  been  nothing  to  which  you 
can  attribute  it, — nothing  has  happened, — 
nothing  of  any  sort?  " 

' '  Nothing  that  I  can  think  of,  and  I  am 
sure  I  never  thought  so  much  about  anything 
before,  in  my  life,  as  I  have  thought  about 
that.  There  was  that  affair  at  Sillmouth, — at 
Pendleton's  cottage  ;  but  there  was  nothing 
in  that,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  to  make  her  out 
of  sorts." 

"Oh,  by  the  by  !  tell  me  all  about  that 
story ;  it  all  happened,  you  know,  after  I 
went  away." 

"  Well,  there  was  nothing,  as  it  turned 
out,  to  make  Kate  vex  herself.  It  seems  that 
Pendleton's  boat,  the  Saucy  Sally  he  called 
her,  you  know,  poor  fellow! — she  was  a 
beautiful  boat  as  ever  swam,  and  she's  gone 
the  way  of  all  Sallys,  however  saucy  they 
be,  now, — well,  the  Saucy  Sally  was  going 
to  make  a  run  from  t'other  side  one  night, 
with  a  big  cargo  ;  and  the  men  were  de- 
termined to  make  a  fight  of  it,  if  they 
were  meddled  with,  the  stupid  blockheads ! 
And  poor  Winny  Pendleton  got  wind  some- 
how, that  the  cutter — Ellingham's  vessel,  the 
Petrel,  you  know — would  be  on  the  look-out 
for  them.  So  poor  Winny  was  frightened 
out  of  her  wits,  —  natural  enough  !  —  and 
off  she  starts  one  terrible  blustering  night  to 
walk  up  to  the  Chase,  all  a-purpose  to  beg 
Kate  to  try  and  persuade  Ellingham — he  was 
up  at  the  Chase  that  night ,  as  it  chanced — to 
stay  quiet  where  he  was  next  day,  and  so  let 
the  lugger  slip  in  quietly,  and  no  bones 
broken ;  a  likely  story  !  and  Winny  must 
have  been  a  bigger  fool  than  I  took  her  for, 
to  think  of  such  a  thing.  However,  she  did 
frighten  Kate,  with  her  rawhead-and-bloody- 
bones  stories  of  what  would  be  sure  to  hap- 
pen if  it  came  to  a  fight  between  the  cutter 
and  the  smugglers,  to  such  a  degree  that  Kate 
went  to  Ellingham  and  told  him  all  about  it, 
one  way  or  another  ;  I  don't  know  what  she 
said  to  him.  Of  course  he  told  her  that  he 
must  do  his  duty,  come  what  might.  And 
we,  Kate  and  I,  had  to  ride  over  to  Sillmouth, 
to  tell  Winny  Pendleton  that  it  was  no  go ; 
and  that  if  the  men  would  fight,  their  blood 
must  be  on  their  own  heads.     And  certainly, 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


235 


Kate  was  in  a  desperate  taking  about  it 
that  night.  She  took  it  into  her  head  that 
either  rcndlcton  or  EUingham,  or  maybe 
both  of  them,  would  certainly  be  killed. 
But  as  good  luck  would  have  it,  it  was  a  ter- 
ribly dirty  night.  The  Saiccy  Sa//y  managed 
to  give  the  cutter  a  wide  berth ;  aud  there 
was  no  fight  at  all,  except  with  some  of  the 
coastguardmcn  on  shore,  in  which  Pendleton 
got  hurt,  and  a  French  chap  who  was  with 
him  got  a  broken  head,  which  nearly  sent 
him  into  the  next  world.  Well,  the  wound- 
ed man  was  carried  to  the  cottage  at  Deep 
Creek;  and  up  comes,  or  sends,  Winny 
again,  to  say  that  the  stranger  is  dying, — old 
Bagstock  had  given  Iiim  over,  and  he  could 
not  speak  a  word  of  English,  and  Pendleton 
was  away  to  the  moor,  and  what  on  earth 
was  she  to  do,  and  all  the  rest  of  it, — and 
would  ]\Iiss  Kate  have  the  charity  to  come 
down  to  the  cottage,  aud  speak  to  the  man 
who  was  dying  without  being  able  to  speak 
a  word  to  a  Christian  soul?  There  was  no 
saying  no  to  that.  So  we  had  to  mount  our 
nags  and  ride  over  again.  And  we  found  the 
man  bad  enough,  to  all  appearance.  But 
Kate,  like  a  sensible  girl  and  a  good  Chris- 
tian, as  she  is,  sent  me  off  for  Blakistry  to 
mend  old  Bagstock's  tinkering.  And  Blakis- 
try managed  to  set  the  chap  on  his  legs 
again;  and  he  was  on  his  way  back  to 
France,  as  I  hear,  in  the  Saucy  Sally,  when 
she  was  lost.  That  is  the  whole  of  the  story. 
And  though  Kate  certainly  was  very  much 
put  about  —  more  than  you  would  have 
thought — when  she  feared  there  was  going  to 
be  bloodshed,  and  likely  enough  lives  lost, 
still,  as  the  matter  turned  out,  there  was 
nothing  to  vex  her  at  the  time  even,  let  alone 
making  her  miserable  from  that  time  tc  this. 
No,  no ;  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

"  And  you  can  think  of  nothing  else  of 
any  sort?  "  asked  Lady  Farnleigh,  after  she 
had  pondered  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes, 
over  all  the  details  of  Mr.  IMat's  history. 

"Nothing  at  all,  Lady  Farnleigh.  Some- 
body or  something  did  put  it  into  the 
squire's  head,  at  one  time,  that  she  had  cast 
a  sheep's  eye  on  that  Jemmy  Jessamy  of 
a  fellow,  Fred  Falconer,  and  was  breaking 
her  heart  over  her  sister's  engagement  to 
him.  But,  Lord !  it  was  no  good  to  tell 
that  to  me  !  OurgKate  pining  after  JMaster 
Freddy  Falconer  !     No,  that  wont  do  !  " 


"No,  I  don't  think  that  is  at  all  likely. 
I  flatter  myself  we  know  Kate,  both  you  and 
I,  Mr.  Mat,  a  little  too  well  to  give  any  heed 
to  that  story." 

"/should  think  so,  and  I  was  quite  sure 
you  would  agree  with  me,  Lady  Farnleigh." 

' '  But  we  are  no  nearer  to  guessing  what  is 
the  matter  ;  and  something  serious  there  is," 
said  Lady  Farnleigh,  with  grave  earnestness. 

"  Ay,  there  is,  aud  no  mistake  about  it ; 
sometimes  I  think  'tis  all  from  being  out  of 
health." 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  will  do  for  one 
thing, — and  the  first  thing.  We  will  ride 
first  to  Dr.  Blakistry 's,  and  I  will  have  a  talk 
with  him.  You  shall  leave  me  there  for  a 
little  time,  Mr.  Mat." 

"  Very  good,  that  will  suit  me  very  well ; 
for  I  want  to  see  Glenny  about  some  new 
glees  that  our  club  has  been  getting  down 
from  London." 

So  that  matter  being  satisfactorily  ar- 
ranged, they  rode  directly,  on  reaching  Sil- 
verton,  to  Dr.  Blakistry 's  door,  and  were 
fortunate  enough  to  catch  him  before  he 
had  started  on  his  round  of  professional 
visits.  So  ]\Ir.  Mat  went  off  to  his  musical 
friend,  and  Lady  Farnleigh  was  admitted  to 
a  tete-d-tele  with  the  doctor. 

"  Doctor,"  said  she,  going  directly  to  her 
object,  after  a  few  complimentary  words  had 
been  said  with  reference  to  her  return  to  Sill- 
shire, — "doctor,  lam  unhappy  and  uneasy 
about  my  goddaughter  and  pet,  Kate  Lindis- 
farn.  She  is  far  from  well.  Whether  the 
main  seat  of  the  malady  is  in  the  body  or  the 
mind,  I  do  not  know  ;  but  whichever  it  may 
be  I  equally  come  to  you  for  help.  Is  it  long 
since  you  have  seen  her  ?  ' ' 

"  Why,  as  it  so  happens,  Lady  Farnleigh, 
it  is  rather  longer  than  usual  since  I  have 
seen  Miss  Lindisfarn.  It  is — let  me  see — 
just  about  a  month,  or  a  little  more,  since 
I  saw  her,  soon  after  paying  a  visit  near 
Sillmouth  to  a  patient  to  whose  bedside  she 
summoned  me." 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  the  story  of  the 
wounded  Frenchman  at  Pendleton's  cottage. 
Mr.  Mat  told  me  all  about  it  as  we  were  riding 
in  from  the  Chase  this  morning." 

"  Of  course  your  ladyship  has  heard  also 
of  the  very  singular  circumstances  which 
have  come  to  light,  with  the  effect  of  chang- 
ing in  so  important  a  degree  the  worldly 


LINDISFARN 

asked 


236 


prospects  of  the  Misses  Lindisfarn  ? 
the  doctor. 

"  Of  course.  Yes,  I  have  heard  the  strange 
story,  as  everybody  in  Sillshire  has  heard  it 
by  this  time.     It  is  a  very  sti'ange  story." 

"  Has  it  occurred  to  your  ladyship  to  con- 
sider how  far  it  may  be  possible  that  the  de- 
pressed state  of  Miss  Kate  Lindisfarn 's  spirits 
may  be  attributable  to  this  sad  change  in  her 
social  position?  " 

"  The  idea  has  occurred  to  me,  doctor,  but 
only  to  be  scouted  the  next  instant.  No, 
that  is  not  it.  We  must  seek  again.  In  the 
first  place,  all  my  knowledge  of  Kate's  charac- 
ter— and  ib  is  a  lifelong  knowledge,  remem- 
ber, doctor — would  lead  me  to  say  that  such 
a  misfortune  would  not  affect  her  in  such  a 
manner.  It  is  a  misfortune, — a  great  misfor- 
tune. Of  course  Kate  would  feel  it  as  such. 
But  she  would  not  pine  or  fret  over  it.  It  is 
not  in  her  nature,  I  feel  perfectly  sure  of  it. 
But,  in  the  second  place,  it  cannot  be  that 
your  conjecture  is  the  true  one,  for  another 
and  a  perfectly  decisive  reason.  The  effect 
was  in  action  before  the  existence  of  the 
cause  to  which  your  suggestion  would  assign 
it.  Kate's  sad  loss  of  spirits  and  of  healthy 
tone  was  remarked  on  at  the  Chase  a  month 
ago  or  moi'e  ;  and  this  sudden  change  of  for- 
tune has  been  discovered  only  within  the  last 
few  days." 

Dr.  Blakistry  remained  silent  for  a  minute 
or  two  before  he  replied. 

"  I  should  be  quite  disposed  to  agree  with 
you.  Lady  Farnleigh,"  he  then  said,  "  that 
such  a  cause  as  we  arc  speaking  of  would  not 
appear  to  me  to  furnish  a  probable  explana- 
tion of  the  phenomena  in  question.  But  I 
think  it  right — under  the  circumstances  of 
the  case,  I  think  it  right — to  let  you  know 
tliat  you  arc  in  error  respecting  the  time  at 
which  the  knowledge  of  this  sad  misfortune 
may  have  begun  to  exercise  its  influence  upon 
our  young  friend.  The  putting  you  right  in 
this  matter  involves  the  disclosing  of  a  secret 
which  was  confided  to  me,  and  which  no  con- 
sideration would  have  induced  me  to  betray, 
were  it  not  that  death  has  made  the  further 
keeping  of  it  altogether  unnecessary.  I  do 
not  know  exactly  by  what  means  the  facts 
which  involve  the  change  in  the  destination 
of  the  Lindisfarn  property  have  been  made 
generally  known  ;  but — Miss  Kate  Lindis- 
farn did  not  first  become  acquainted  with 
these  facts  in  the  same  manner  or  at  the  same 


CHASE. 


time.  They  were  known  to  her  and  to  her 
sister  from  the  time  of  that  visit  of  mine  to 
the  wounded  stranger  in  Deep  Creek  Cot- 
tage." 

"Dr.  Blakistry!"  exclaimed  Lady  Farn- 
leigh, in  the  greatest  astonishment. 

"It  is  even  so.  Miss  Lindisfarn  is  not 
aware  that  I  am  cognizant  of  the  fact  that 
such  is  the  case  ;  but  it  so  happens  that  I 
know  it  to  be  so.  The  wounded  man  to 
whose  bedside  I  was  called  was  none  other 
than  Julian  Lindisfai-n,  the  same  who  is  said 
to  have  recently  perished  at  sea  on  his  return 
to  France  ;  and  Miss  Kate  was  informed  by 
him  of  the  fact,  and  was  made  fully  aware  of 
the  bearing  that  fact  had  upon  her  pros- 
pects." 

"  And  Margaret?" 

"  Was  equally  made  aware  of  the  same 
facts.  She  was  informed  of  them  at  the 
same  time,  by  her  sister,  who  bargained 
with  her  dying  cousin,  as  he  then  fancied 
himself,  for  permission  to  share  the  secret 
with  her." 

Lady  Farnleigh  bent  her  head,  and  placed 
her  hand  before  her  eyes,  as  if  in  deep  and 
painful  thought,  for  some  minutes. 

"What  can  have  been  Kate's  motive?" 
she  said  at  last,  raising  her  head  and  looking 
up  into  the  doctor's  face,  but  still  seeming  to 
speak  more  to  herself  than  to  him, — "  what 
can  have  been  Kate's  motive  for  keeping  this 
secret  from  her  family  and  from  me?  " 

"  The  motive  of  her  secrecy  up  to  the  time 
of  her  cousin's  departure  from  England  is 
obvious  enough.  Doubtless  she  had  given  the 
same  promise  of  secrecy  to  her  cousin  that 
was  exacted  from  me.  It  seems  to  have  been 
his  earnest  wish  that  it  should  not  be  known 
to  his  family  that  he  was  alive  and  in  the 
immediate  neighborhood.  But  what  her 
motive  has  been  in  still  keeping  silence  as  to 
the  fact  since  his  departure,  and  yet  more 
since  his  death  has  become  known,  I  cannot 
imagine." 

Again  Lady  Farnleigh  remained  plunged 
in  deep  thought,  resting  her  head  upon  her 
hand  for  a  long  time. 

At  last,  suddenly  raising  her  head  and 
speaking  with  rapid  earnestness,  as  if  a  sud- 
den thought  had  flashed  across  her  mind,  she 
said, — 

"  Can  you  recollect  the  exact  date  of  your 
visit  to  the  cottage  at  Deep  Creek,  doctor  ?  " 

"  Undoubtedly.     I  can  give   it  you  with 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


the  greatest  certainty.  It  was — yes,  here  it 
is,"'  said  the  doctor,  referring  to  a  note-book 
as  he  spoke,  "  tlic  date  of  my  first  visit  to  Deep 
Creek  Cottage  was  the  20th  of  March  last." 

'■  The  20th  of  Marcli  last !  "  exclaimed 
Lady  Farnleigh,  hurriedly  searching  among 
a  variety  of  papers  she  drew  from  the  reticule 
which  ladies  were  wont  to  carry  in  those 
days, — "  the  20th  of  March  !  "  she  repeated, 
looking  eagerly  at  the  date  of  a  letter  she 
had  selected  from  among  the  other  papers. 
"Doctor,  I  think  I  hare  discovered  the  mot 
d'enigme.  I  think  I  see  it.  I  think  I  un- 
derstand it  all.  You  must  excuse  me  if  I 
make  tlie  bad  return  for  your  information  of 
keeping  my  own  surmises  on  the  subject  to 
myself.  1  must  do  so  at  least  till  they  are 
something  more  than  surmises.  I  think  I 
see  it  all.  My  dear,  dear,  darling,  high- 
minded,  noble-hearted  Kate!  And  then  Miss 
Margaret !  Heavens  and  earth  !  You  have 
no  idea,  doctor,  how  many  things  this  little 
secret  of  yours  explains,  or  how  much  it  is 
worth.  Have  a  little  patience,  and  you 
shall  know  all  about  it  in  good  time." 

"  I  will  bide  my  time,  Lady  Farnleigh, 
Avith  such  patience  as  I  may.  I  only  hope 
that  the  solution  of  the  mystery  is  of  a  na- 
ture to  bring  back  the  roses  to  Miss  Lindis- 
farn's  cheeks.  Sillshire  cannot  afford  to  let 
them  wither  away." 

"  That  we  shall  sec  ;  I  can't  promise, — we 
shall  see.  But  I  am  not  without  my  hopes. 
And  now,  doctor,  while  I  am  waiting  for  Mr. 
Mat,  who  is  to  come  here  for  me, — and  I 
must  trespass  on  your  hospitality  till  he  does 
come  ;  for  he  is  my  only  squire, — I  will  ask 
you  to  have  the  kindness  to  give  me  the 
means  of  writing  a  letter.  I  want  to  post  it 
before  I  leave  Silverton." 

And  sitting  down  at  the  doctor's  writing- 
table.  Lady  Farnleigh,  scribbling  as  fast  as 
ever  she  could  drive  the  pen  over  the  paper, 
wrote  the  following  letter  : — 

"Dear  Walter, — If  it  is  possible,  come 
here  without  loss  of  time,  on  receiving  this. 
And  if  it  is  not  possible,  make  it  so  ;  I  want 
you.  Basta!  come  direct  to  Wanstrow, 
without  going  to  Silverton  at  all.  I  got 
back  here  only  yesterday.  I  know  you  wont 
fail  me  ;  and  therefoi'e  say  no  more. 
"  Y'ours  always  and  affectionately, 

"  Katherine  Farxleigu." 

She  sealed  it  in  such  haste  and  flurry  that 
she  burnt  her  finsers  in  doins  it  :  addressed 


237 

it  to  "The  lion.  Walter  Ellingham,  Moulsea 
Haven,  North  Sillshire,"  and  then  jumping 
up  from  the  table,  said,  "  Where  can  Mr. 
Mat  be  ?  He  told  me  he  was  going  to  Glen- 
ny's,  the  organist's.  I  suppose  they  are  deep 
in  quavers  and  semiquavers.  And  I  want  to 
be  on  my  way  back  to  Lindisfarn.  If  my 
horse  were  here,  I  would  ride  off  by  myself." 

"  Here  is  ]\Ir.  Mat ;  I  am  sure  he  has  not 
suffered  himself  to  be  detained  from  his  alle- 
giance long,  Lady  Farnleigh." 

"No,  indeed!  and  I  am  very  rude  ;  but 
the  fact  is.  Dr.  Blakistry,  that  since  I  flatter 
myself  that  I  have  discovered  what  I  was  in 
search  of  when  I  came  here,  I  am  in  a  very 
great  hurry  to  go  and  test  my  nostrum. 
Can't  you  sympathize  with  that  impatience?" 

"  I  can,  indeed,  and  admit  it  to  be  a  most 
legitimate  one.  Mr.  Mat,"  continued  the 
doctor,  addressing  that  gentleman  as  he  en- 
tered the  room,  "  her  ladyship's  service  re- 
quires that  you  should  sound  to  boot  and 
saddle  forthwith  ;  sorry  that  it  accords  so  ill 
with  the  duties  of  hospitality  to  tell  you  so, 
but"— 

"  We  must  be  off,  Mr.  Mat;  I  want  to 
get  back  to  Lindisfarn." 

"  I  thought  your  ladyship  had  ever  so 
many  things  to  do  in  Silverton  !  ' '  said  ]Mr. 
Mat,  staring. 

"  All  that  remains  to  be  done  now,  how- 
ever, is  to  put  this  letter  in  the  post;  we  will 
ride  by  the  post-office,  and  if  you  are  for  a 
good  gallop  up  from  the  Ivy  Bridge  to  the 
lodge-gate,  I  am  quite  disposed  for  it." 

"  With  all  my  heart.  Lady  Farnleigh. 
Any  pace  you  like,  once  we  arc  down  the 
steep  Castle  Head  to  the  bridge." 

"  I  have  heard  a  queerish  thing  since  I 
came  into  the  town,  Lady  Farnleigh.  It 
reached  my  cars  by  an  odd  chance,  and  I 
hardly  know  what  to  make  of  it,"  said  Mr. 
Mat,  as  they  were  walking  their  horses  down 
the  steep  pitch  of  hill  above  mentioned. 

"Anything  with  reference  to  these  sad  af- 
fairs at  Lindisfarn  ?  "  said  Lady  Farnleigh,to 
whom  any  other  Silverton  gossip  was  just 
then  altogether  uninteresting. 

"  Why,  I  hardly  know  ;  I  can't  help  fan- 
cying that  it  has  reference  to  some  of  us  up 
at  the  Chase,  Lady  Farnleigh,"  replied  Mr. 
Mat,  with  a  shrewd  glance  at  his  companion's 
face.  ' '  But  you  shall  judge  for  yourself. 
When  I  went  into  Glenny's,  the  organist's, 
just  now,  I  found  old  Wyvil,  the  verger,  in 


238 

his  room.  '  Here's  the  raan  that  can  tell  us,' 
cried  Glenny,  meaning  me.  I  saw  with  half 
an  eye  that  old  Wyvil  was  vexed,  and  that 
Glenny  was  letting  some  cat  or  other  out  of 
the  hag  ;  but  it  was  too  late  then  to  put  her 
in  again.  '  Tell  you  what  ?  '  said  I.  '  Why, 
this,'  said  Glenny:  'was  Dr.  Lindisfarn  ex- 
pected to  dinner  up  at  the  Chase  last  Fri- 
day ?  '  '  Not  that  I  know  of,'  said  I ;  '  and 
I  certainly  should  have  known  if  he  had 
been.'  '  Thei'e  now  !  I  thought  as  much  !  ' 
said  Glenny.  '  Why,  what  about  it  ?  '  said 
I.  '  Well  it  is  this,'  said  Glenny,  without 
paying  any  heed  to  old  Gaffer  Wyvil 's  signs 
and  winks  :  '  Jonas,  at  the  Lindisfarn  Arms,' 
— that  is  the  postboy,  Lady  Farnleigh,  who 
is  cousin,  or  nephew,  one  or  the  other,  to  the 
old  verger, — '  Jonas,'  says  he,  '  has  been 
telling  my  old  friend  here  that  he  was  or- 
dered by  Mr.  Frederick  Falconer  to  take  a 
chaise  and  pair  that  evening  round  to  the 
door  in  the  doctor's  garden-wall,  that  opens 
into  the  Castle  Head  Lane ;  and  if  he  met 
anybody  who  asked  questions,  he  was  to  say, 
that  he  was  going  to  take  the  doctor  up  to 
the  Chase  to  dinner.  Well,  he  was  doing  as 
he  was  ordered, — was  coming  along  the  Castle 
Head  Lane  just  at  six  o'clock,  which  was  the 
time  he  was  told  to  be  there, — when  he  met 
old  Gregory  Greatorex,  Falconer's  confiden- 
tial clerk,  who  sent  him  back  all  of  a  hurry, 
telling  him  that  the  chaise  was  not  wanted 
for  that  night.  Looks  queer  ;  don't  it  ?  ' 
said  Glenny.  '  Very  queer  !  '  said  I.  As  if 
all  Sillshire  did  not  know  that  the  squire 
dines  at  half-past  five  too !  '  I  hope  you 
gentlemen  wont  go  for  to  get  a  poor  boy  into 
a  scrape,'  said  old  Wyvil ;  '  he  did  not  mean 
any  harm  by  telling  me,  as  we  was  having  a 
bit  of  gossip  over  a  mug  of  beer.'  "Never 
fear,'  said  I  ;  '  the  boy,  as  you  call  him,' — 
he's  sixty  if  he  is  a  day, — '  shall  come  to  no 
harm.'  Now  what  does  your  ladyship  think 
of  that?"  concluded  Mr,  Mat,  looking  up 
with  another  of  his  shrewd,  twinkling  glan- 
ces. 

"  Upon  my  word,  Mr.  Mat,  I  hardly  know. 
Was  Margaret  at  her  uncle's  on  that  day  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  was,  and  has  been  there  a  deal 
more  than  at  home  lately." 

"Was  she  to  sleep  there  that  night?" 
pursued  Lady  Farnleigh. 

"  Yes,  and  did  sleep  there  !  "  said  Mr. 
Mat. 

"  It  is  very  odd !  "  said  Lady  Farnleigh. 

"I  see  that  your  ladyship  has  taken  the 
same  notion  into  your  head  that  came  into 
mine,"  said  Mr.  Mat. 

"  What  was  that,  then  ?  "  said  Lady  Farn- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


leigh,  smiling,  and  looking  archly  at  Mr.  Mat 
in  her  turn. 

"  Why,  what  does  a  postchaise,  at  a  back- 
door in  a  by-lane  on  a  dark  night,  where  a 
young  lady  is  living,  mostly  mean?"  said 
Mr.  Mat. 

"  It  must  be  owned  that  it  looks  very  like 
an  elopement,  dans  les  ref/les.'^^  said  the 
lady  ;  "  but  I  confess  that  that  is  an  indis- 
cretion which  I  should  not  have  suspected 
either  the  gentleman  or  the  lady  of,  in  this 
case." 

"  It  seems  one  or  both  of  them  thought 
better  of  it,  anyway  !  "  returned  Mr.  Mat. 

"  When  was  the  claim  put  forward  on 
behalf  of  Julian  Lindisfarn's  child  first 
heard  of  in  Silverton  ?  ' ' 

"  Old  Slowcome  heard  of  it  from  Jared 
Mallory,  the  attorney  at  Sillmouth,  that 
same  afternoon,"  replied  Mr.  Mat. 

"  Humph,"  said  Lady  Farnleigh,  mus- 
ingly, as  she  coupled  this  fact  with  the  in- 
formation she  had  just  been  put  in  possession 
of,  respecting  the  date  of  Margaret's  knowl- 
edge of  the  true  state  of  the  case  concern- 
ing her  cousin. 

"What  does  your  ladyship  make  out  of 
it?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  ;  we  shall  see.  But 
I  am  almost  inclined  to  think,  Mr.  Mat,  that 
I  can  make  out  of  it  that  it  was  a  great  pity 
Mr.  Gregory  Greatorex  did  not  abstain  from 
meddling  with  Jonns  AYyvil,  the  postboy," 
said  her  ladyship,  with  a  queer  look  at  Mr. 
Mat. 

Mr.  Mat's  bright  black  eyes  twinkled  like 
two  bits  of  live  fire,  and  a  rather  grim  smile 
mantled  gradually  over  the  hard  features  of 
his  seamed  face,  as  he  answered, — 

"What,  let  'em  do  it?  'twould  have 
served  Jemmy  Jessamy  right,  if  that  was 
what  he  was  up  to." 

"  I  am  never  for  separating  two  young  and 
ardent  hearts,  if  it  can  anyway  be  avoided. 
Don't  you  agree  with  me,  especially  in  cases 
where  one  may  say  with  the  poet,  '  Sure 
such  a  pair  were  never  seen,  so  justly  formed 
to  meet  by  nature,'  eh,  Mr.  Mat?  " 

"Young  and  ardent  hearts  be — stuck  on 
the  same  skewer,  the  way  they  do  in  the  val- 
entines !"  cried  Mr.  Mat,  with  an  expression 
of  intense  disgust.  "  I  can't  say  that  I  can 
make  it  out,  Lady  Farnleigh  ;  they  are  not 
the  sort,  not  if  I  know  anything  about 
them,"  added  he. 

"  Well,  perhaps  we  shall  understand  it 
better  by  and  by,  Mr.  Mat,"  returned  Lady 
Farnleigh . 

And  as  they  reached  the  Ivy  Bridge  and 
the  bottom  of  the  hill,  while  she  was  speak- 
ing, with  the  long  ascent  toward  Lindisfarn 
before  them,  they  put  their  horses  into  a  gal- 
lop, and  did  not  draw  rein  till  they  were  at 
the  lodge-gates. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


239 


CHAPTER   XLIV. 

MR.   SLOWCOME   G0K3  TO   SILLMOUTII,    AND   TAKES 

NOTIIINQ   BY   III3   MOTION. 

Dr.  Lindisfarx  and  Mr.  Sligo  gained 
nothing  by  their  excursion  to  Chewton. 
Their  researches  ^Yerc  equally  fruitless  on 
the  special  objects  of  both  gentlemen.  The  evi- 
dent priority  which  the  doctor  gave  to  his  arch- 
ocological  investigations  vras  a  matter  of  the 
most  intense  astonishment,  and  almost,  one 
may  say,  of  scandal,  to  Mr.  Sligo.  That  an 
elderly  gentleman  in  the  possession  of  his 
senses,  so  nearly  interested  as  Dr.  Lindis- 
farn  was  in  the  result  of  the  examinations 
which  he  (Mr.  Sligo)  was  there  for  the  pur- 
pose of  making,  should  utterly  fail  to  take 
any  rational  interest  in  the  matter,  manifest- 
ly in  consequence  of  his  being  wholly  ab- 
sorbed by  his  anxiety  to  discover  the  mean- 
ing of  certain  syllables  which  in  all  proba- 
bility had  no  meaning  at  all,  and  at  all 
events,  none  that  could  be  supposed  to  affect 
the  title  of  any  human  being  to  any  amount  of 
property  real  or  personal,  was  a  phenomenon 
60  new,  so  wholly  unaccountable  to  Mr.  Sligo, 
and  so  distasteful  to  him,  that  it  made  him 
cross  with  the  doctor.  He  began  to  think 
that  the  admission  that  the  old  canon  was  in 
the  perfect  possession  of  his  senses  was  an 
assumption  not  warranted  by  the  facts  in 
evidence.  The  doctor,  on  his  part,  was  revolt- 
ed by  his  companion's  evident  want  of  inter- 
est in  the  whole  question  of  the  mysterious 
inscription,  and  the  cursory  and  impatient 
attention  which  was  all  that  he  could  induce 
him  to  accord  to  it.  He  looked  at  the  wood- 
en panel  in  question,  tapped  it  with  his 
knuckles,  stared,  at  the  doctor's  request,  at 
the  inscribed  letters,  and  declared  that,  as 
faf  as  he  could  see,  there  never  had  been  any 
otliers  ;  at  all  events,  his  eyes  could  see  no 
traces  of  any  such. 

"And  now,  Mr.  Mallory,"  he  said  to  the 
old  clerk,  who,  having  accompanied  the  two 
gentlemen  to  the  church,  had  been  standing 
by,  impassible  and  grave  as  a  judge,  while 
this  examination  was  in  progress, — "  and 
now,  Mr.  Mallory,  if  Dr.  Lindisfarn  is  satis- 
fied that  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  discov- 
ered here,  we  will,  with  your  leave,  return  to 
your  house,  and  resume  the  subject  on  which 
we  were  speaking." 

"  As  Dr.  Lindisfarn  pleases,"  said  the  old 
clerk,  gravely  ;  "  but  he,  as  it  is  reasonable 
to  suppose,  knew  the  late  Mr.  Mellish  as 


well  as  I  did,  and  in  any  case  I  have  nothing 
more  to  toll  about  him." 

"  You  admit  that  the  church  registers 
were  at  one  period  kept  at  your  house?  " 

"  I  have  told  you  that  such  was  the  case, 
since  you  expresned  curiosity  upon  the  sub- 
ject. There  was  no  question  of  admitting 
one  way  or  the  other  in  the  matter,  Mr, 
Sligo.  I  have  nothing  to  admit  or  deny  on 
the  subject.  The  books  were  at  one  time 
kept  at  my  house, — not  because  it  was  my 
house,  but  because  it  was  the  clergyman's 
lodging.  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  bring- 
ing of  them  there,  or  with  the  taking  of 
them  back  again  to  the  church.  The  respon- 
sibility for  the  custody  of  them  lay  with  the 
parson,  and  not  with  the  clerk,  as  you  no 
doubt  are  well  aware,  Mr.  Sligo." 

"Well,  well,  never  mind  whether  it  is  admit- 
ting or  stating  ;  you  say  that  the  registers  were 
subsequently  taken  back  to  the  church  ?  ' ' 

"  You  speak  of  registers,  sir  ;  but  I  have 
no  recollection  of  having  seen  more  than  one 
book,  and  that  not  a  very  big  one.  During 
the  latter  years  of  Mr.  Mellish's  life,  that 
book  used  to  be  kept  in  the  vestry." 

"  And  was  always  at  hand  there,  I  sup- 
pose, when  needed?  " 

"I  suppose  so,  sir;  but  it  was  often  for 
months  at  a  time  together  that  it  was  never 
needed.  "VVe  don't  bury,  marry,  or  christen 
every  day  out  on  the  moor  here,  as  you  peo- 
ple do  in  the  towns  !  ' ' 

"When  was  the  last  time  that  you  have  any 
recollection  of  having  yourself  seen  the  book, 
Mr.  Mallory?"  asked  Sligo.  "How  long 
before  the  death  of  Mr.  Mellish,  now,  had 
you  a  death,  or  a  burial, — or  a  christening  ?  " 

"  I  could  not  at  all  undertake  to  say  when 
1  saw  the  book  last.  Old  Farmer  Bouitby,  of 
the  Black  Tor  Farm,  out  towards  the  coast, 
was,  I  think,  the  last  parishioner  buried  by 
Mr.  Mellish,  a  month  or  so  maybe  before 
his  own  death.  Whether  his  burial  was  reg- 
istered or  not,  I  can't  say  ;  nor  whether  it 
was  done  at  the  time  of  the  ceremony  or  not. 
Very  often  the  curate  would  put  the  entries 
into  the  register  afterward . ' '  Further  cross- 
questioning  of  the  old  man  only  obtained  from 
him  that  he  "  could  not  say  how  long  after- 
wards— at  any  convenient  time — he  did  not 
mean  by  that  to  say  when  the  curate  was 
sober,  though  it  might  be  that  sometimes  he 
was  not  altogether  so  at  the  time  of  the  per- 
formance of  the  function." 


240  LINDISFARN 

In  short,  all  that  Mr.  Mallorj  comW  recol- 
lect were  circumstances  tending  to  show  that 
the  whole  ecclesiastical  administration  of  the 
parish  was  in  the  greatest  possible  disorder 
in  every  respect  in  the  old  times  when  Mr. 
Mcllish  was  curate,  near  ten  years  ago  ;  and 
he  could  not  recollect  any  single  fact  which 
could  help  to  fix  the  existence  of  the  missing 
register  at  any  ascertained  date  or  place. 
He  could  remember,  however,  perfectly  well 
that  when  Mr.  Partloe,  who  succeeded  Mr. 
Mellish  in  the  curacy,  came,  there  was  no 
book  to  be  found,  and  Mr.  Partloe  had  pro- 
cui-ed  a  new  one.  Mr.  Partloe  was  a  very  dif- 
ferent sort  of  gentleman  from  Mr.  Mcllish, — 
very  particular,  and  very  regular.  The  new 
book  was  always  kept  in  the  vestry,  was 
there  now.  They  were  still  without  any 
proper  chest  at  Chewton  ;  but  the  new  reg- 
ister was,  from  the  time  of  Mr.  Partloe's 
coming,  always  kept  in  a  little  cupboard  in 
the  vestry,  which  he  had  caused  to  be  put  up 
at  his  own  expense.  Mr.  Partloe  had  been 
curate  only  four  years.  The  register-book 
had  been  kept  with  the  most  perfect  regular- 
ity all  that  time ;  as  it  had  indeed  by  the  pres- 
ent curate,  Mr.  Bellings,  who  had  succeeded 
Mr.  Partloe.  Mr.  Bellings  was  not  at  home, 
having  ridden  over  that  morning  to  Silvcrton. 
Dr.  Lindisfai-n  and  Mr.  Sligo  must  have  met 
him,  had  bhey  not  come  by  the  other  road, 
which  alone  was  passable  for  wheels.  But 
it  would  be  easy  to  obtain  an  opportunity  of 
examining  the  new  register,  which  had  been 
kept  from  the  time  of  the  death  .of  Mr.  Mel- 
lish. Very  easy,  no  doubt;  and  altogether 
useless  as  regarded  the  business  in  hand. 

What  search  had  been  made  for  the  missing 
register  by  Mr.  Partloe  when  he  came  there 
after  Mellish's  death,  Mr.  Mallory  could  not 
say,  but  felt  certain  that  Mr.  Partloe  must 
have  exhausted  every  means  for  finding  it,  as 
he  was  such  a  very  particular  gentleman. 

Had  the  old  book  never  been  needed  in  all 
these  ten  years  ?  Mr.  Sligo  asked  ;  had  nobody 
in  all  that  time  required  to  refer  to  it  for  the 
establishment  of  any  of  the  facts  of  which  it 
constituted  the  sole  legal  record?  No,  no- 
body. When  folk  were  dead  out  in  the 
moor  there,  nobody  wanted  to  ask  any  more 
about  them.  When  folk  were  married,  they 
got  their  marriage  lines,  and  that  was  all 
that  was  needed. 

"  And  your  daughter's  marriage  lines,  Mr. 

LINDISFARN    CHASE.  16 


CHASE. 

Mallory, — of  course  she  had  them?  "  asked 
Sligo,  suddenly. 

"  No  doubt  she  had  them,  Mr.  Sligo.  Of 
my  own  personal  knowledge  I  can  affirm 
nothing  about  it.  The  whole  subject  of  the 
marriage  was  a  very  painful  one  to  me.  I 
would  have  prevented  it  if  I  could  have  done 
so,  without  the  risk  of  greater  evil  to  my  un- 
fortunate child." 

"Unfortunate,  Mr.  Mallory ?"  cried  Sli- 
go. "  Well,  I  don't  know  what  you  may  call 
fortunate,  but  " — 

"  My  daughter  was  induced  to  make  a 
marriage,  Mr.  Sligo,  to  which  her  position 
in  life  did  not  entitle  her  ;  which  she  was 
compelled  to  keep  secret  for  many  long  and 
painful  years,  while  calumny  and  scandal 
were  at  work  with  her  name  ;  which  took 
her  husband  from  her  within  a  few  months 
of  their  union  ;  which  has  ended  in  leaving 
her  a  widow, — a  widow  widowed  in  such  a 
fearful  manner,  and  compelled  by  duty  to  her 
child  to  assert  its  rights  with  hostility  against 
a  family  for  whom  I  have  the  greatest  respect, 
and  with  a  result  that  is  lamented  by  and  is 
unwelcome  to  the  whole  country-side.  You 
must  excuse  me,  Mr.  Sligo,"  said  the  old 
man,  who  had  been  speaking  under  the  influ- 
ence of  his  feelings  in  a  somewhat  higher 
strain  than  that  of  his  usual  talk, — "  you 
must  excuse  me  if  I  cannot  consider  the  mar- 
riage a  fortunate  one  in  any  respect ;  and  I 
feel  confident  that  Dr.  Lindisfarn  will  enter 
into  my  sentiments  on  the  subject." 

"  I  am  sure,  Mallory,  your  feelings  are  all 
that  they  ought  to  be  on  the  subject.  It  is 
an  unhappy  business.  If  my  poor  boy  were 
living,  it  might  have  been  diflTcrent.  As  it  is 
— you  see — ha — hum — I  wonder,  INIallory, 
whether  poor  Mellish  could  have  thrown  any 
light  on  that  singular  inscription  in  the  ves- 
try corridor  ?  ' ' 

"  Not  he,  sir.  It  is  little  he  thought  of 
such  matters,"  said  the  old  man,  glancing  at 
Mr.  Sligo  as  he  spoke. 

"  When  was  the  last  whitewashing  done, 
Mallory?"  asked  the  doctor,  meditatively. 

"  When  Mr.  Partloe  first  came  here,  sir. 
He  was  a  great  man  for  whitewash,  Mr. 
Partloe  was,  sir,  a  tidy  sort  of  a  gentleman, 
who  liked  to  have  things  clean  and  neat.  Ho 
had  all  the  passage  leading  to  the  vestry  and 
the  vestry  itself  new  whitewashed." 

"  It  is  very  unfortunate,"  sighed  the  doctor. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"  Very,"  re-echoed  Mr.  Sligo,  who  had 
boon  mentally  reviewing  the  total  failure  of 
his  attempts  to  learn  anything  of  the  history 
of  the  missing  register. 

"  Tery  unfortunate,  gentlemen  !  "  coin- 
cided old  Jared  Mallory,  with  a  placid  draw- 
ing down  of  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and 
softly  rubbing  his  palms  and  fingers  together 
with  the  action  of  a  man  washing  his  hands 
with  very  smooth  and  easily  lathering  soap. 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  the  senior 
canon  and  the  junior  partner  in  the  legal  firm 
drove  back  again  to  Silverton,  having  accom- 
plished nothing  of  any  sort  by  their  jour- 
ney. 

"  I  am  afraid  the  document  will  have  to  be 
admitted  as  good  evidence,  as  it  stands,"  said 
Sligo,  alluding  to  the  extract  from  the  reg- 
ister in  the  hands  of  the  Sillmouth  attor- 
ney. 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  but  as  evidence  of  what  ?  " 
returned  the  doctor.  "Any  interpretation 
that  can  be  put  upon  it  must  be  entirely  con- 
jectural. And  I  confess  I  am  at  loss  too  ffer 
even  a  conjecture." 

"  It  is  legal  evidence  of  the  marriage,  that 
is  all,"  said  Sligo,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"  Oh,  ah,  yes — I  see  !  "  said  the  doctor. 

"  No  go  !  "  said  Sligo,  as  he  entered  Mr, 
Slowcome's  room  at  the  office,  on  his  return 
to  Silverton  ;  "  nothing  to  be  done.  That 
old  man,  the  clerk,  mute  as  a  stockfish  and 
ely  as  a  fox.  Nothing  to  be  made  of  him. 
But  I  observed  one  thing,  sir." 

"  What  was  that,  Mr.  Sligo  ?  Come,  take 
a  chair  and  let  us  go  into  the  matter  com- 
fortably." 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Sligo,  who  had 
acquired  a  horror  of  getting  himself  seated  at 
the  writing-table  in  his  partner's  room,  and 
considered  the  proposal  that  he  should  sit 
down  there  much  as  a  sparrow  might  have 
regarded  an  invitation  to  hold  out  his  tail  for 
salt  to  be  put  upon  it,  —  "no,  I  wont  sit 
down,  thank  j-ou.  I  must  be  off.  But  I  am 
going  to  mention  that  1  noticed  that  there 
was  nothing  to  be  seen  at  Chewton  of  the  old 
man's  daughter,  or  the  child.  So  I  just  said, 
'  Is  your  daughter  with  you,  Mr.  Mallory? 
I  should  be  happy  to  have  an  opportunity  to 
pay  my  respects  to  Mrs.  Lindisfarn  ;  '  Mrs. 
Lindisfarn,  I  said,  you  know,  just  so.  '  Mrs. 
Lindisfarn  is  not  at  Chewton,'  said  he,  as 
stiff  and  grim  as  an  old  woman  in  a  witness- 
box,  when  she  don't  mean  to  tell  you  any- 


241 


thing  ;  '  she  is  at  Sillmouth  with  herbrotlier.' 
Well  now,  that  set  me  thinking,  Mr.  Slow- 
come." 

"Indeed;  and  what  did  you  think,  Mr. 
Sligo?"  replied  the  senior  partner,  with 
mucii  interest. 

"Well,  nothing  for  certain, — only  a  guess ; 
maybe  nothing  in  it.  '  What  have  this 
woman  and  her  child  been  sent  to  Sillmouth 
for  ?  '  said  I  to  myself.  Jared  ]Mallory  is  a 
bachelor,  and  a  loose  one,  and  a  poor  one. 
The  woman's  home  is  and  has  been  in  her  fa- 
ther's house — a  very  good  house  it  is — at 
Chewton.  What  is  the  nature  and  character 
of  women,  especially  of  that  sort  of  women 
that  get  led  away  by  such  chaps  as  this 
Julian  Lindisfarn  seems  to  have  been  ?  And 
this  led  me  to  guess — a  mere  random  guess, 
you  see,  Mr.  Slowcome — that  it  is  not  un- 
likely, if  there  has  been  any  got-up  fraud  in 
this  matter,  that  the^  may  think  it  best  to 
keep  the  woman  out  of  the  way,  under  the 
care  of  that  precious  scamp  Mr.  Jared,  junior. 
Twig,  eh,  sir?  " 

Mr.  Slowcome  took  an  enormous  pinch  of 
snuff  very  slowly  and  deliberately;  and  hav- 
ing thus  stimulated  his  brain,  and  care- 
fully brushed  away  every  scattering  atom  of 
the  dust  from  his  shii't-fria  and  waistcoat 
with  dainty  care,  answered  Mr.  Sligo's  rapid 
and  elliptical  exposition  of  his  ideas. 

"I  think  I  gather  your  meaning,  Sligo  ; 
you  consider  it  probable, — or  at  least  possi- 
ble, for -I  am  quite  aware  that  you  put  for- 
ward this  theory  as  mere  possibility, — you 
think  it  possible  that  the  young  woman  may 
have  been  removed  and  placed  in  her  broth- 
er's charge,  from  fear  that  she  might  be  dis- 
inclined, or  only  partially  inclined,  or  weakly 
inclined,  to  engage  in  the  fraud,  and  might 
perhaps,  if  judiciously  handled,  be  induced 
to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  and  tell  the 
truth." 

"  Pre-cisely  so,  sir.  That  is  what  came 
into  my  head.  Think  there  is  anything  in 
it,  sir,  eh?  " 

"  I  am  not  at  all  prepared  to  say  there  may 
not  be.  It  is  a  very  shrewd  idea,  Mr.  Sligo, 
and  well  worth  acting  on.  It  would  be  very 
desirable  that  you  should  endeavor  to  see 
this  young  woman." 

"  Job  for  the  head  of  the  firm,  sir,"  said 
Mr.  Sligo,  shaking  his  head.  "  You  must 
see  her  yourself,  sir." 

'  Why  should  I   do  it   better   than  you, 


242 

Slif^o?    I  am  sure  you  have  always  shown 
yourself" — 

"  Very  good  of  you  to  say  so,  Mr.  Slow- 
come  ;  but  in  this  case — beautiful  woman — 
don't  you  see?  Two  sorts  of  'em  !  If  she  is 
of  the  sort  to  prefer  doing  business  in  such  a 
case  with  the  junior  partner,  you  understand, 
Mr.  Slowcome,  why  then  she  is  not  of  the 
sort  that  we  shall  get  the  truth  of  this  busi- 
ness from.  If  there  is  to  be  any  hope  of  that, 
she  must  be  of  the  sort  that  would  prefer  to 
speak  with  you  on  the  matter.  Twig,  sir, 
eh  ?  Fatherly  dodge — daughters  of  your  own. 
Your  entire  turn-out,  sir,  worth  anything  for 
such  a  business!  See  it  in  that  light,  sir? 
You'll  excuse  me  I  "  and  Mr.  Sligo  winked  a 
running  commentary  as  he  delivered  himself 
of  these  suggestions,  which  greatly  added  to 
their  suasive  force. 

"  I  think  I  catch  your  idea,  Mr.  Sligo," 
said  Mr.  Slowcome,  in  a  dignified  manner  ; 
"  and  upon  the  whole  I  am  disposed  to  think 
that  you  may  be  right.  I  dare  say  you  are 
right.  I  will  try  to  see  the  young  woman 
myself.  I  do  not,  I  confess,  much  like  the 
idea  of  being  seen  knocking  at  the  door  of 
Mr.  Jared  Mallory,  junior.  Nevertheless,  in 
our  good  client's  interest,  I  will  undertake 
the  job." 

Mr.  Slowcome  did  undertake  the  job  the 
next  day,  driving,  or  rather  being  driven, 
over  to  Sillmouth  in  his  well-known  carriage, 
with  the  large,  sleek,  well-conditioned  power 
ful  roadster,  driven  by  the  Arcady  Lodge 
hobbledehoy  in  livery,  for  the  purpose.  Of 
course,  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  Sill- 
mouth — or  at  least  all  those  who  were  in  or 
looking  out  into  the  street,  which  comprised 
the  major  part  of  the  population — became 
aware  of  the  advent  of  the  great  Silverton 
lawyer ;  and  when  the  handsome  carriage 
and  the  big  horse  and  the  hobbledehoy  in 
livery  drew  up  at  Mr.  Jared  Mallory's  door, 
tliat  gentleman  was  standing  at  it  to  receive 
them. 

"  Mr.  Slowcome,  upon  my  word  !  quite  an 
unexpected  honor,  I  am  sure.  Will  you  walk 
in,  sir?  " 

So  the  head  of  the  respectable  Silverton 
firm  had  to  walk  into  the  disreputable  look- 
ing little  den,  which  his  professional  brother 
of  Sillmouth  dignified  by  the  name  of  his 
office. 

"  Touching  the  business  of  the  Lindisfarn 
succession?"  said  Mr.  Mallory,  when  they 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


were  seated  in  the  dirty  little 'bare  room,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  had  affairs  of  various 
kinds  pending,  to  which  the  visit  of  the  Silver- 
ton  man  of  business  might  perchance  have  had 
reference. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Mallory,  touching  the  business 
of  the  Lindisfarn  succession,"  said  Slowcome, 
and  there  stopped  short,  like  a  man  in  the 
habit  of  feeling  his  way  Avith  those  he  spoke 
to  as  cautiously  as  a  skilful  pugilist  makes 
his  play  before  his  adversary.  But  he  was 
not  likely  to  get  anything  by  any  such  tactics 
from  the  man  against  whom  he  was  now 
pitted. 

"  I  shall  be  most  happy,  Mr.  Slowcome,  to 
give  my  best  attention  to  any  overture  you 
may  be  desirous  of  making,"  said  Mallory, 
sitting  on  the  corner  of  the  plain  deal  table  in 
his  office,  and  swinging  one  long  leg  to  and 
fro  in  a  devil-may-care  sort  of  manner,  which 
especially  scandalized  the  sense  of  propriety 
and  irritated  the  nervous  system  of  old  Slow, 
who  was  seated  in  the  one  arm-chair  the 
mean  little  place  contained. 

"  Overture,  Mr.  Mallory  ?"  said  he,  thus 
driven  ;  "  I  have  no  overture  to  make.  It  is 
not  a  case  for  anything  of  the  sort.  In  a 
matter  of  this  kind,  Mr.  Mallory,  where  it 
will  become  necessary  for  an  excellent  and 
highly  respected  family  to — to — to  open  its 
arms,  as  I  may  say,  to  a  new  member,  to  one 
whom  none  of  them  have  ever  before  seen,  of 
whom  they  have  known  nothing,  you  must 
feel  that  it  is  very  natural  that  interviews 
should  be  desired.  My  present  mission  here 
is,  therefore,  to  see  Mrs.  Lindisfarn,  and  " — 
"Oh,  I  see!  respectable  family  opens  its 
arms  by  power  of  attorney.  Family  solici- 
tor —  Mr.  Jared  JMallory — honor  to  inform 
Messrs.  Slowcome  and  Sligo  that  that  cock 
positively  declines  to  fight !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Mallory  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Slowcome,  staring  at  him  in  unfeigned 
amazement. 

"It  is  no  go,  Slowcome!  "  returned  the 
other,  closing  his  left  eye,  as  he  nodded  at 
his  visitor  knowingly;  "not  a  chance  of 
the  shadow  of  the  tithe  of  a  go.  Why  what 
do  you  take  me  for,  Mv.  Slowcome,  to  imag- 
ine that  I  should  allow  you  to  tamper,  sir, 
with  my  witnesses  in  that  manner?  " 

"Tamper,  Mr.  Mallory?  Take  care,  sir, 
tamper  !  " 

"  I  will  take  care,  Mr.  Slowcome,  devilish 
good  care.     As  for  the  expression — withdraw 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


it  with  all  my  heart,  if  it  riles  you — parlia- 
mentai'y  sense —  But  Mrs.  Lindigfarn  is 
not  visible  this  morning,  Mr.  Slowcome. 
No,  not  so  much  as  the  tip  of  her  nose  !  " 

So  Mr.  Slowcome's  (\itherly  bearing,  his  un- 
blemished character  and  white  waistcoat  to 
match,  his  shirt  and  gold  buckles,  and  his 
pigtail  were  all  unavailing,  and  he  had  to  pack 
all  these  properties  into  the  carriage  with  the 
stout  cob  and  the  hobbledehoy  for  driver,  to 
be  driven  back  again  toSilverton,  having  tak- 
en absolutely  nothing  by  his  expedition. 

CnAPTER    XLV. 
THE   FAIRY   GODMOTnER   AT  HER   SPELLS. 

As  Lady  Farnleigh  and  Mr.  Mat  were  rid- 
ing up  fi-om  the  lodge  gates,  they  met  Mr. 
Merriton  riding  down  the  hill  from  the  house. 

"  How  do,  Merriton  ;  sorry  to  have  been 
out  when  you  called.  Found  the  ladies,  I 
suppose,  more  to  the  purpose,  eh?"  said 
Mr.  Mat. 

"  Thank  you.  Lady  Farnleigh,  happy  to 
see  your  ladyship  back  in  Sillshire  again — 
good-morning,"  said  Mr.  Merriton,  rather 
shortly,  and  rode  on. 

"  Better  fellow  that  than  I  thought  him 
when  he  first  came  here !  "  said  Mr.  Mat. 

"  Oh,  I  rather  like  Mr.  Merriton.  I  quite 
think  that  he  and  that  quaint  little  sister  of 
his  have  been  acquisitions  to  us,"  said  Lady 
Farnleigh. 

"  Do  you  remember  that  day  at  the  Friary, 
when  little  Dinah  Wilkins  all  but  fell  over 
the  face  of  the  Nosey  Stone  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  I  do  !  I  shall  not  forget  it  in 
a  hurry." 

"  Well,  Merriton  behaved  well  that  day — 
very  differently  from  some  others  that  were 
there.  Yes,  I  like  Merriton.  Seemed  to  be 
out  of  sorts  just  now,  I  thought." 

"  In  a  hurry  to  get  home,  perhaps." 

Lady  Farnleigh  and  her  squire  had  ridden 
from  Silvcrton  up  to  the  Chase  in  less  than 
an  hour,  and  they  found  Miss  Imray  and  Miss 
Margaret  still  sitting  in  the  dining-room  at 
the  luncheon-table.  Kate,  as  had  been  so 
often  lattei-ly  the  case,  was  not  there. 

Lady  Farnlcigli  declared  that  her  ride  had 
made  her  hungry  ;  and  Mr.  Mat  so  far  dero- 
gated from  his  ordinary  habits  as  to  sit  down 
at  the  table,  and  draw  a  plate  toward  him  in 
rather  an  apologetical  sort  of  manner. 

"So  you  have   had  Mr.  Merriton   here? 


243 


Did  you  give  him  some  luncheon.  Miss  Im- 
my?  "  said  Lady  Farnleigh. 

"  He  did  not  come  into  the  dining-room. 
Lady  Farnleigh.  I  asked  him;  but  he  re- 
fused," said  Mi?s  Immy,  feeling  that  she  had 
been  rather  injured  by  the  rejection  of  that 
middle-of-thc-day  hospitality,  which  she  re- 
garded as  more  especially  and  exclusively  her 
own  afllxir. 

"  T  don't  know  what  you  have  been  doing 
or  saying  to  him,"  said  Mr.  Mat;  "but 
as  we  met  him  going  down  to  the  lodge,  he 
seemed  quite  out  of  sorts.  Have  you  been 
unkind  to  him,  Miss  Margaret?  " 

"Really  I  know  nothing  about  it,  Mr. 
Mat,"  said  Margaret,  tossing  her  head. 
"  Mr.  Merriton's  visit  was  not  to  me,  nor 
to  Miss  Immy,  indeed,  as  f;xr  as  that  goes. 
His  business  here,  whatever  it  may  have  been, 
seemed  to  be  of  a  very  exclusive  nature.  And 
if  you  want  to  know  anything  about  it,  you 
had  better  ask  Kate.  I  have  no  doubt  she 
will  tell  you,  and  explain  why  Mr.  Merriton 
was  out  of  sorts — if  he  were  so." 

All  this  was  spoken  with  a  peculiar  sort  of 
sourness,  and  with  sundry  tosses  of  the  head, 
the  observation  of  which  caused  Lady  Farn- 
leigh to  bring  her  luncheon  to  a  rather  abrupt 
conclusion,  and  leave  the  room,  saying, 
"  Where  is  Kate?  In  her  own  room,  I  sup- 
pose, according  to  her  new  bad  habit.  I  shall 
go  and  look  for  her.  I  want  to  speak  to 
her." 

Lady  Farnleigh  did  find  Kate  in  her  own 
room  ;  but,  contrary  to  her  usual  habit,  she 
was  locked  in.  The  door  resisted  Lady  Farn- 
leigh's  quick,  impatient,  push  preceded  by  no 
knock. 

"  It  is  I,  Kate.  Open  the  door,  darling,  I 
want  to  tell  you  all  about  my  expedition  to 
Silver  ton." 

Kate  came  to  the  door  at  once,  and  Lady 
Farnleigli  saw  at  a  glance,  when  she  opened 
it,  that  her  pet  and  favorite  had  been  crying. 

"  What  is  it,  my  darling?  "  she  said,  com- 
ing in,  and  at  the  same  time  rebolting  the 
door  behind  her, — "what  is  it,  my  Kate? 
All  alone !  and  tears,  tears,  tears, — you  who 
used  to  be  all  smiles  and  laughter  from  one 
week's  end  to  another.  My  child,  this  will 
not  do.  Has  anything  vexed  you  this  morn- 
ing, dear?  What  is  this  about  Mr.  Merri- 
ton? We  met  him,  Mr.  Mat  and  I,  as  we 
came  up  the  drive  from  the  lodge ;  and  he 


244  LIND] 


seemed  to  be  very  unwilling  to  give  us  a 
word  more  than  a  passing  greeting.  And 
when  Mr.  Mat  remarked  down-stairs  that  he 
seemed  to  have  been  all  out  of  sorts,  Margaret 
tossed  her  head, and  said,  in  her  sharp,  disa- 
greeable way,  that  Mr.  Merriton's  visit  had 
not  been  to  her,  and  that  you  could  doubtless 
explain  all  about  his  being  out  of  humor." 

"  It  is  true,  godmamma  !  He  came  here  to 
me,"  said  Kate,  hanging  her  head  in  a  very 
penitential  sort  of  attitude.  "  He  would  not 
be  shown  into  the  drawing-room,  but  asked 
to  see  me  ;  waited  in  the  hall  till  I  came  down, 
— for  I  was  up  here  at  the  time, — and  then 
asked  if  he  might  go  with  me  into  the  li- 
brary." 

"  So,  so,  that  speaks  plainly  enough  for 
itself,  my  dear,"  said  Lady  Farnleigh,  draw- 
ing a  chair  close  to  Kate's,  and  making  the 
latter  sit  down  by  her,  and  taking  her  hand 
between  both  her  own  caressingly  ;  "  I  quite 
understand  all  about  Mr.  Merriton's  visit 
to  the  Chase  now,  my  dear  ;  so  I  will  not 
ask  what  it  was  he  said  to  you  in  the  li- 
brary;  but  what  was  it  you  said  to  him?" 

"  Indeed,  godmamma,"  said  Kate,  looking 
up  sadly  enough  into  Lady  Farnleigh 's  face, 
but  striving  to  force  a  feeble  smile  athwart 
the  remnant  of  her  tears,  "  it  would  not  be 
at  all  fair  to  Mr.  INIerriton  to  tell  the  story 
60  shortly.  He  spoke  to  me  in  the  kindest 
and  most  delicate  manner.  You  know  how 
shy  he  is  !  lie  seemed  hardly  able  to  speak 
at  all  at  first  ;  and  I  was  quite  unable  to  give 
him  the  least  bit  of  help.  But  when  he  had 
once  begun,  he  got  on  better,  and  I  assure 
you  I  was  quite  touched  by  his  kindness." 

"  Well,  dear  !  And  I  suppose  his  kind- 
ness consisted  in  throwing  himself  and  his 
hand  and  his  heart  and  everything  else  that 
is  his  at  your  feet,"  said  Lady  Farnleigh, 
willing  to  get  a  smile  of  the  old  arch  and  gay 
sort  from  Kate  by  any  means  ;  but  the  strings 
of  the  finely-tempered  instrument  were  un- 
strung, and  could  not  give  back  to  the  touch 
their  old  music. 

"  That  was  the  upshot  of  it,  I  believe, 
godmamma.  But  he  did  it  with  such  good 
feeling  and  delicacy.  He  spoke  of  the  change 
that  had  occurred  to  us, — my  sister  and  me, 
— apologized  for  venturing  to  do  so  on  the 
score  of  its  inevitably  becoming  the  gossip  of 
the  place,  and  confessed  that  that  circum- 
stance had  given  him  courage  to  do  so  at 
once,  what  ho  had  hitherto  not  dared  to  do. 


SFARN    CHASE. 

But  he  said  it  so  well,  far  better  than  I  can 
repeat  it.  He  never  supposed  for  an  instant 
he  said,  that  such  considerations  could  make 
any  difference  in  my  decision  on  such  a  point ; 
but  my  family  might  consider  that  under  the 
present  circumstances  he  was  not  making  a 
proposal  which  could  be  blamed  on  the  same 
grounds,  at  least,  as  it  might  have  been  had 
he  made  it  previously." 

"  All  spoken  very  much  like  a  gentleman, 
as  Mr.  Merriton  unquestionably  is.  And 
what  did  my  little  goddaughter  say  in  re- 
turn for  so  many  pretty  speeches?"  said 
Lady  Farnleigh. 

"  Oh  !  I  told  him,  godmamma,  you  know, 
that  it  was  out  of  the  question.  I  spoke  as 
civilly — indeed,  a's  kindly  as  I  could." 

"  You  say  '  you  know,  godmamma  !  '  just 
as  if  I  knew  all  the  secrets  of  that  little  hide- 
and-seek  heart  of  yours,  my  Katie.  I  thought 
I  did  once.  But  there  is  something  thei'e  now 
that  godmamma,  fairy  she  be,  knows  nothing 
about.  How  should  I  know  that  it  was  out  of 
the  question  ?  Mr.  Merriton  is  a  gentleman, 
and  I  believe  a  very  worthy  man,  and  cer- 
tainly he  is  wliat  is  called  a  very  good  match, 
especially  so  under  our  present  circumstances. 
And  I  suppose,  too,  that  he  wanted  to  have 
it  explained  to  him  a  little,  why  it  was  per- 
fectly out  of  the  question?  Did  you  say 
nothing  on  that  head?  '' 

»'  What  could  I  say,  godmamma,  but  that, 
though  I  esteemed  him  much,  I  did  not  feel 
toward  him  as  I  must  feel  toward  the  person 
I  could  accept  as  a  husband?  That  was  in 
truth  all  there  was  to  be  said  about  it.  Was 
it  not,  godmamma  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so,  Katie  dear.  And  you  prob- 
ably had  the  less  difiiculty  in  saying  it  tliat 
you  had  already  been  called  upon  to  say  tiie 
same  thing  once  before  to  another  aspirant?" 

"  Godmamma!  "  cried  Kate,  with  a  great 
gasp,  while  the  tell-tale  blood  rushed  with  tu- 
multuous force  over  her  neck  and  shouldcis 
and  forehead  and  cheeks,  to  leave  them  in  the 
next  moment  ghastly  white,  and  she  began  to 
shake  all  over  like  an  aspen-leaf. 

Lady  Farnleigh  almost  repented  of  the  suc- 
cess of  her  stratagem,  when  she  saw  the  ex- 
cess and  genuineness  of  the  distress  she  had 
caused  her  favorite.  Nevertheless,  having 
gone  so  far,  she  would  not  abstain  froiu 
pushing  her  test-operation  to  its  extent. 

"Forgive  mc,  darling  !"  she  continued; 
"  I  would  not  pain  you  needlessly  for   the 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


245 


world,  Kate  ;  you  know  I  would  not.  But 
it  did  not  seem  to  distress  you  to  speak  of 
this  other  rejection.  What  difference  could 
there  have  been  in  the  two  cases? — unless, 
indeed,  tliat  Mcrriton  could  not  have  imag- 
ined that  he  was  rejected  on  prudential  con- 
siderations." 

"But  he  did  not  think  that  !"  sobbed 
Kate,  with  diCBculty  forcing  out  the  words 
between  the  hard  and  quick-drawn  breath- 
ings that  were  alternately  extending  and  con- 
tracting their  coral-pink  delicately-cut  nos- 
trils. 

"  That  is  what  I  say,  my  dear,"  returned 
Lady  Farnleigh,  wilfully  mistaking  her  mean- 
ing, with  cruel  kindness,  "  I  say  he  could 
not  have  imagined  that." 

"  I  mean,"  cried  Kate,  almost  driven  to 
bay  by  the  extremity  of  her  distress,  "  I  mean 
that  he  did  not  imagine  that — the  other.'''' 

"  Oh,  Ellingham  !  Xo,  it  is  not  in  him  to 
harbor  such  a  thought  of  a  girl  he  loved. 
But  it  was  not  so  self-evident  as  in  the  latter 
case.  I  suppose  the  answer  you  gave,  dear, 
was  much  about  the  same  in  either  in- 
stance? " 

"  Godmamma!"  exclaimed  the  poor  girl, 
in  the  tone  of  a  prisoner  crying  for  mercy 
from  under  the  cords  of  the  rack.  "  You 
said,"  she  added,  after  a  short  pause,  "  that 
that  subject  should  not  be  spoken  of  between 
us  again." 

"  At  all  events,  Kate,  you  must  admit  that 
it  is  impossible  for  me  to  avoid  seeing  that 
there  is  a  remarkable  divergence  in  your  mode 
of  feeling  and  speaking  of  the  two  events. 
The  account  you  give  me  of  them  is  much 
about  the  same  of  one  as  of  the  other  in  all 
material  points.  But  yet  they  appear  to  af- 
fect you  very  differently.  As  to  Ellingham, 
I  should  not  have  mentioned  the  matter 
again,  were  it  not  that  I  had  to  tell  you  that 
I  must  return  to  Wanstrow  to-morrow  morn- 
ing the  first  thing  after  breakfast,  because  I 
am  expecting  him  there.  He  is  going  to  pay 
me  a  visit." 

Kate  kept  her  face  resolutely  bent  down- 
wards, so  that  it  was  impossible  for  Lady 
Farnleigh  to  see  the  expression  of  it ;  but  she 
could  see  that  her  announcement  was  mak- 
ing her  goddaughter  tremble  in  every  limb. 
"  I  thought  it  best  to  mention  it  to  you, 
darling,  that  you  might  not  be  exposed  to 
meet  him  unexpectedly.     You  must  prepare 


yourself  to  do  so ;  for  of  course  it  can  hardly 
be  but  that  he  will  come  over  to  the  Chase." 

"  I  do  not  think  that  he  will  come  here, 
godmamma,"  said  Kate,  in  a  voice  scarcely- 
above  a  whisper. 

"  It  may  be  so,  my  Katie.  Nevertheless, 
my  own  impression  is  that  he  will  come  here, 
— it  is  my  very  strong  impression  that  he 
will  come.  It  is  best,  therefore,  that  you 
should  be  prepared  to  meet  him,  little  one," 
said  Lady  Farnleigh. 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  be  spared  doing  so 
just  yet,  if  it  were  possible,"  she  said,  hus- 
kily, for  the  words  seemed  to  stick  in  her 
parched  throat  ;  "  could  I  not  remain  up  in 
my  own  room  here, godmamma?  " 

"  My  child,  you  cannot  live  shut  up  in 
this  room.  You  must  learn  to  meet  him. 
And  besides — what  would  you  do,  Kate,  if 
he  were  specially  to  ask  to  see  you  ?  ' ' 

"  Oh,  godmamma  \  It  is  quite  out  of  the 
question  that  he  should  do  that, — quite  !  " 
said  Kate,  in  somewhat  stronger  tones. 

"  I  do  not  think  so,  my  dear.  On  the  con- 
trary, I  think  it  extremely  probable  that  he 
will  want  to  speak  to  you  !  " 

"I  cannot  fancy  that  he  would  do  such 
a  thing,  godmamma.  You  do  not  know — 
What  makes  you  think  that  he  is  likely  to 
do  so?  " 

"  Simply  my  knowledge  of  his  character, 
my  dear.  I  have  known  Walter  Ellingham 
all  his  life.  I  love  him  nearly  if  not  quite 
as  well  as  I  do  you,  my  pet  ;  and  if  I  am  not 
mistaken  in  him,  he  will  come  here,  and  will 
want  to  speak  to  you  ;  so  you  had  better,  as 
far  as  may  be,  make  up  your  mind  as  to  what 
you  will  say  to  him  in  return." 

"  But  what  can  he  want  to  say  to  me,  god- 
mamma? "  said  Kate,  while  her  cheecks  tin- 
gled, and  she  drooped  her  face  yet  more 
upon  her  bosom  ;  for  the  slightest  shadow 
of  a  shade  of  disingenuousness  was  new  and 
painful  to  her,  and  the  truth  was,  that  Kate 
knew  very  well  what  it  was  that  her  god- 
mother supposed  Walter  Ellingham  might 
have  to  say  to  her. 

"  My  notion  is,  my  dear,  that  he  will  want 
to  ask  you  yet  once  again,  before  giving  up 
all  hope,  whether  you  will  be  his  wife.  My 
notion  is,  that  he  is  coming  to  me  at  Wan- 
strow  for  that  express  purpose  and  no  other  ! 
Therefore,  I  say  again,  my  Katie,  that  it 
would  be  well  that  you  should  be  in  some 


246 


degree  prepared  as  to  the  answer 
give  him." 

"  How  would  it  be  possible  for  me  to  give 
bim  any  other  answer  than  I  gave  him  before? 
How  would  it  be  possible,  godmamma?" 

"  My  dear,  how  can  I  answer  such  a  ques- 
tion, when  I  do  not  know  what  the  answer 
was,  nor  what  your  motive  for  giving  it  to 
him  was  ?  It  very  often  is  possible  for  a  young 
lady  to  change  her  mind,  and  give  an  answer 
to  such  a  question  different  from  her  first 
one." 

"  But  even  if  it  were  possible  that  I  should 
change  my  mind, — even  if  it  were  possible 
that  I  should  wish  to  give  a  different  answer, 
how  could  I  do  so  ?  Could  1  accept  an  offer  as 
a  comparatively  unportioned  girl  which  I  re- 
fused as  a  rich  heiress?  Would  it  not  be  to  give 
everybody  the  right  to  think  that  the  change 
in  my  conduct  was  produced  by  the  change 
in  my  fortunes?  Oh!  dear,  dear  godmam- 
ma!" cried  Kate,  hiding  her  face  on  Lady 
Farnleigh's  shoulder,  "  I  do  think  that  I 
would  rather  be  burned  alive  at  the  stake, 
than  that  he  should  think  that!  " 

"  Ah  !  rather  than  that  he  should  think 
it !  It  would  not  so  much  matter  about  the 
rest  of  the  world.  Well,  it  may  be  that  he 
may  have  something  to  say  to  you  on  that 
head.  So  I  wont  press  you  now  to  decide 
what  answer  you  should  give  him,  before  you 
have  heard  what  he  may  say  to  you,"  said 
Lady  Farnleigh,  quite  sure  now,  if  even  she 
had  had  any  doubt  before,  that  Kate's  rejec- 
tion of  EUingham  had  been  caused  solely  by 
her  knowledge  of  the  fact  of  her  cousin 's  being 
alive,  and  of  the  consequences  of  that  fact  as 
regarded  her  future  fortunes,  and  by  her  cer- 
tainty that  EUingham  was  addressing  her  in 
ignorance  of  those  circumstances.  "  And 
now,  my  dear,  to  change  the  subject,"  con- 
tinued Lady  Farnleigh,  "  what  do  you  think 
that  I  heard,  or  rather  that  Mr.  Mat  heard, 
in  Silverton  to-day.  It  concerns — or  at  least 
I  am  entirely  persuaded  that  it  concerns — 
your  sister  Margaret ;  and  yet  I  would  give 
you  a  hundred  guesses  to  guess  it  in  !  " 

"  What  was  it,  godmamma — what  did  you 
and  Mr.  Mat  hear?  "  said  Kate,  looking  up 
with  genuine  alarm  in  her  face. 

"Why  simply  this  :  that  a  few  nights  ago, 
— the  very  night,  it  would  seem,  before  Mr. 
Slowcome  came  up  here  to  tell  your  father 
about  your  unfortunate  cousin's  having  left  | 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 

you  will  an  heir, — Mr.  Frederick  Falconer  ordered  a 
chaise  and  pair  from  the  Lindisfarn  Arms  to 
take  up  its  station  at  nightfall  at  the  back 
door  of  your  uncle's  garden,  which  opens 
into  the  Castle  Head  Lane.  That  is  all, 
— no,  by  the  by,  not  quite  all,— and  that 
the  post-boy  had  orders  to  say,  if  anybody 
asked  him  any  questions,  that  he  was  going 
to  take  Dr.  Lindisfarn  up  to  the  Chase  to 
dinner,  where,  Mr.  Mat  says,  he  was  in  nowise 
expected  that  evening.  "What  do  you  think 
of  that,  Kate?  " 

' '  Why,  it  looks — I  am  utterly  amazed  ! 
But,  godmamma,  Margaret  and  Fredei'ick 
Falconer  had  papa's  consent, — and — every- 
thing ;  I  cannot  understand  it.  But  was  it 
— do  you  think  ?  And  why,  if  so,  did  noth- 
ing come  of  it  ?  And  Margaret — oh,  it  can- 
not be  what  we  had  in  our  heads,  godmamma. 
It  is  impossible.  There  is  some  mistake. 
It  is  impossible!"  reiterated  Kate,  as  she 
remembered  what  had  passed  between  ]Mar- 
garet  and  herself  the  day  before  that  fixed 
for  the  suspected  elopement.  "  And  yet 
again,"  she  said,  as  it  occurred  to  her  that 
it  was  possible  that  Margaret  might  have  told 
Frederick  the  secret  according  to  her  com- 
pact, that  Frederick  might  have  felt  therefore 
that  his  father  would  never  consent,  to  his 
marriage  with  a  portionless  girl,  and  that  he 
might  have  planned  an  elopement  to  avoid 
his  father's  opposition.  And  it  suddenly 
darted  into  her  mind,  that  if  such  indeed 
had  been  the  facts,  Frederick  Falconer  must 
be  a  far  more  disinterested  and  nobler  fellow 
than  she  had  ever  given  him  credit  for  being  ; 
and  yet,  almost  at  the  same  instant,  there 
shone  clear  across  her  mind  the  conviction 
that  it  could  not  be  ;  that  Freddy  Falconer 
was  in  reality  Freddy  Falconer,  and  not 
another  ;  and  the  whole  story  seemed  utterly 
unintelligible  to  her.  "  But  at  all  events, 
nothing  came  of  it,"  continued  she,  looking 
into  Lady  Farnleigh 's  face  ;  "  how  is  that  to 
be  accounted  for?  " 

"I  confess  that  it  is  all  very  unaccountable  !" 
returned  Lady  Farnleigh  ;  "  but  as  for  the 
coming  to  nothing  of  the  scheme,  whatever 
itmay  have  been,  the  same  gentleman  calmed 
the  storm  who  had  raised  it, — that  is  to  say, 
dismissed  the  post-chaise.  Or  at  least  it  was 
dismissed  by  the  confidential  clerk  of  the 
bank,  Mr.  Mat  says." 

"  But  that  mijrht  have  been  old  Mr.  Fal- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE.  247 

Conor's  doinsi;,  you  know,  godmamma  ;  old  Would  not  tliia  elopement,  if  olopcmcnt  there 
Mr.  Falconer  may  have  found  it  out,  and  put  really  were  in  question,  have  been  the  only 
a  stop  to  it."  !  means  of  attaining  the  object  which  a  girl 

"Humph!"  said  Lady  Farnleigh.  "  What '  accepting  an  offer  under  such  circumstances 
may  have  been  the  gentleman's  motive,"  j  must  have  had  in  view?  " 
she  added,  after  a  pause,  "  either  in  planning  i  "  But,"  pleaded  Kate,  turning  very  pale, 
such  an  escapade  or  in  abandoning  it,  I  can-  :  and  feeling  deadly  sick  at  heart,  "  may  we 
not  presume  to  guess.  But  what  about  i  not  suppose — is  it  not  possible,  that  is — that 
Margaret?  She  of  course,  knew  nothing,  !  she  might  have  been  led  into  the  weakness  of 
so  soon  as  that,  of  the  change  of  fortune  that '  accepting  an  offer  made  to  her — that  is,  sup- 
was  hanging  over  her  ?"  added  her  ladyship,  I  posing  always  that  Margai-et  could  have 
looking  shrewdly  into  Kate's  face  as  she  j  known  of  the  secret  of  Julian's  being  alive 
spoke.  "  What  should  we  have  to  think  of  so  far  back  as  when  the  offer  was  made  " — 
her,  if  it  were  possible  to  suppose  that  she  '  and  Kate's  conscience  smote  her  as  she  spoke 
had  obtained  knowledge  of  the  facts?  Of  the  words, — smote  her  on  both  sides  from  two 
course,  you  had  heard  no  word  that  could  different  directions  ;  both  for  her  want  of 
lead  you  to  imagine  that  such  a  plan  was  in  candor  towards  Lady  Farnleigh,  and  for 
contemplation  !"  said  Lady  Farnleigh,  look-  abandoning  Margaret  so  far  as  even  to  admit 
ing  into  Kate's  face,  which  was  burning  with  '  theabovecase  hypothetically  ;  "  isitnot  possi- 
the  painful  bliisiies  that  her  companion's  ;  ble,"  she  continued,  avoiding  her  godmother's 
words  respecting  the  possibility  of  Margaret's  searching  eyes  in  a  manner  she  had  never, 
knowledge  of  the  secret  had  called  into  it.  never  done  before,  "  that  Margaret  might 
It  was  a  comfort  to  her  to  be  able  to  say  have  been  led  into  accepting  his  offer  by  the 
frankly,  in  I'cply  to  the  last  question  of  her  difficulty  of  knowing  what  answer  to  make  to 
godmother,  that  no  syllable  of  the  kind  had  .  him  ;  it  would  be  very  difficult  you  know, 
reached  her  ears ;  and  that  the  whole  thing  godmamma!"  and  Kate  remembered,  as  she 
seemed  to  her  so  improbable  and  incompre-  j  spoke,  how  difficult,  how  cruelly  difficult,  it 
hensible  that  she  still  thought  there  must  be  i  was.  "  She  might  have  been,  as  it  were,  sur- 
some  mistake  about  it.  i  prised  into  accepting,   from  not  being  able  to 

"  Suppose,"  said  Lady  Farnleigh  slowly,  assign  the  real  cause  for  her  refusal;  and 
and  looking  at  Kate  as  she  was  speaking, —  |  without  any  intention  of  suffering  the  mat- 
"  suppose  that  Margaret  had  in  some  way  j  ter  to  go  on,  you  know,  godmamma.  Might 
obtained  a  knowledge  of  the  fatal  secret,  and  j  it  not  have  been  so  ?  " 

was  therefore  willing  to  consent  to  an  elope-  I  Lady  Farnleigh  noted  in  her  mind  Kate's 
ment,  in  order  that  the  marriage  might  be  j  hypothetical  admission,  and  her  assumption 
made  irrevocably,  before  that  knowledge  that  Margaret  could  not  have  told  the  simple 
reached  other  people.  And  suppose  that  i  t  '  truth  to  her  lover,  forgetting  that  Lady  Farn- 
did  reach  the  gentleman  just  as  he  was  on  j  leigh  could  not  have  comprehended  any  such 


the  point  of  starting  ?  ' 


motive  for  silence,  if  she  had  not  been  in- 


"  Good  heavens.  Lady  Farnleigli,  but  that  formed  of  all  the  cii'cumstances  of  the  case, 
would  be  to  suppose  Margaret  guilty  of  con-  j  Lady  Farnleigh,  I  say,  noted  all  this  and 
duct  too  dreadful  to  be  possible  ! — and  it  ;  smiled  inwardly  at  Kate's  clumsy  attempt 
would  make  out  Frederick  Falconer  to  be  a  ,  and  manifest  incapacity  for  dissimulation, 
great  deal  worse  than  I  have  ever  thought  or  i  Lady  Farnleigh  felt  that  it  might  have  been 
think  him."  I  easy,  by  availing  herself  of  these  inconsisten- 

"  Well,  my  dear,  I  hope  you  may  be  right ;  cies,  to  force  Kate  to  a  confession  of  the 
we  shall  see.  But  as  regards  Mai-garet,  Kate,  j  whole  truth  ;  but  it  did  not  suit  her  present 
which  is  what  most  interests  us ;  does  it  not  purpose  to  do  so.  She  was  contented  with 
appear  to  you  that  the  conduct  which  you  j  obtaining  light  enough  to  enable  her  to  per- 
stigmatize*  as  too  atrocious  to  be  possible  ,  ceive  with  very  tolerable  accuracy  and  cer- 
■would  be  but  the  natural  sequel  to  the  ac-  tainty  the  whole  of  the  story.  It  was  pretty 
cepting  of  an  offer  at  all  under  such  circum-  I  clear  to  her  that  Kate's  knowledge  of  the 
stances  as  those  in  which  Margaret  was  '  facts  learned  in  the  cottage  at  Deepcreek  had 
placed,  if  indeed  she  had  a  previous  knowl-  I  constrained  her  to  refuse  an  offer  which  she 
edge   of  the  important  facts   in    question  ?  j  would  otherwise,  to  the  best  of  Lady  Farn- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


248 

Irish's. juda;nient,  have  accepted;  and  that 
Margaret's  kuowlcdge  of  the  same  facts  had 
led  her  to  act  in  a  precisely  contradictory 
manner  ;  and  further  that  Kate  was  prevent- 
ed from  now  avowing  that  her  knowledge  of 
her  cousin's  being  alive  dated  from  the  time 
it  did  by  her  anxiety  to  defend  and  spare  her 
sister. 

And  to  tell  the  truth  in  all  its  ugly  naked- 
ness, Lady  Farnleigh  was  by  no  means  dis- 
tressed, as  she  undoubtedly  ought  to  have 
been,  at  the  discovery  of  much  that  was 
base  and  bad  in  Margaret.  Besides  the  six 
thousand  pounds  which  she  had  long  ago  set- 
tl(;d  on  Kate,  Lady  Farnleigh  had  a  few  other 
thousands  over  which  she  had  cntii-e  control, 
and  of  which  her  own  eon  had  no  need. 
Now  what  Lady  Farnleigh  wished  to  do,  what 
it  would  have  been  a  pleasure  for  her  to  do, 
in  the  unhappy  mischance  which  had  fallen 
upon  her  friends,  would  have  been  to  add 
these  thousands  to  the  little  provision  she 
had  already  made  for  her  darling  goddaugh- 
ter. But  she  had  conscientiously  felt  that 
this  would  not  have  been  doing  the  best  she 
could  for  the  children  of  her  dearly  loved 
friend,  the  late  Mrs.  Lindisfarn.  iShe  felt 
that  it  would  have  been  under  the  circum- 
stances to  treat  Margaret  hardly.  And  she 
had  determined  that  she  would  virtuously  ab- 
stain from  doing  her  own  pleasure  in  this  mat- 
ter, and  would  do  strictly  that  which  she  be- 
lieved to  be  right.  Butnow,  if  indeed  Margaret 
had  been  guilty  of  such  conduct  as  that  which 
seemed  to  be  proved  against  her,  that  would 
surely  be  a  most  righteous  judgment  which 
should  assign  to  her  favorite  the  means  which 
would  facilitate  the  union  she  (Lady  Farn- 
leigh) had  set  her  heart  on,  and  should  declare 
one  so  unworthy  to  have  forfeited  all  claim  on 
her.  And  people  like  their  own  way  so 
much,  and  Lady  Farnleigh  was  so  strongly 
addicted  to  following  hers,  that — to  tell  the 
honest  truth,  as  I  said  before— it  was  by  no 
means  disagreeable  to  the  self-willed  lady  to 
find  that  she  might  be  justified  in  following 
her  devices  in  this  matter. 

So,  having  from  her  conversation  with 
Kate, — a  conversation  which  she  would  fain 
have  spared  her  goddaughter,  if  she  could 
have  done  so,  but  which  it  was  absolutely 
necessary  for  her  to  have,  before  she  could 
judiciously  say  what  she  proposed  saying 
to  Ellingham— acquired  the  information,  or 
rather  the  confirmation  of  her  suspicions. 


which  she  needed,  she  only  replied  to  those 
last  words  of  Kate's  very  lame  and  inefiec- 
tual  pleading  for  her  sister,  by  saying, — 

"  Well,  my  dear,  it  may  have  been  as  you 
say.  It  is  possible,  as  far  as  we  know  at 
present.  But  we  shall  see.  "We  shall  know 
all  about  it  before  long." 

"  x\nd  you  must  think  as  leniently  as  you 
can,  dear  godmamma,  of  Margaret,  even  if  it 
should  turn  out  that  she  has  acted  foolishly 
in  this  matter.  The  circumstances  in  them- 
selves, you  see,  are  very  difficult ;  and  then 
you  know" — and  there  Kate  paused  awhile, 
as  not  knowing  very  well  how  to  put  into 
words  the  ideas  which  were  in  her  mind,  or 
perhaps  not  having  conceived  them  clearly, 
— "  poor  Margaret  is  so  different, — has  been 
brought  up  with  such  different  ways  of 
thinking,  and  we  can  hardly  tell  how  far 
many  matters  would  present  themselves  to 
her  under  a  different  aspect  from  what  they 
would  to  our  minds.  I  do  think  that  great 
allowances  ought  to  be  made;  don't  you, 
godmamma?  " 

"Very  true,  my  dear;  Margaret,  as  you 
say,  is  very  different,"  replied  Lady  Farn- 
leigh, looking  fondly  at  Kate,  and  speaking 
in  a  half-absent  sort  of  manner,  which  showed 
that  more  was  passing  in  her  mind  than  was 
set  forth  in  her  words.  "  And,  by  the  by, 
whei-e  is  she,  I  wonder?"  she  continued, 
rousing  herself  from  her  musing  ;  "  I  must 
speak  to  her  about  all  this  " — 

"  What,  now,  godmamma?"  interrupted 
Kate,  in  a  voice  of  considerable  alarm. 

"Don't  alarm  yourself,  my  dear,  I  only 
want  to  say  a  few  words  to  her  about  the 
match  she  was  about  to  make,  and  the  break- 
ing off  of  it.  It  would  be  unnatural  forme 
to  leave  the  house  without  doing  so.  Where 
do  you  think  she  is  now  ?  " 

"  Down  in  the  drawing-room  with  Miss 
Immy,  in  all  probability." 

"I  would  go  down  to  her,"  said  Lady 
Farnleigh  ;  "  but  I  don't  want  to  speak  to 
her  before  poor  dear  Miss  Immy,  who  would 
not  hear  half  what  was  said,  but  would  think 
it  necessary  to  take  part  in  the  conversation. 
Could  not  you  go  down,  Kate,  and  ask  her 
to  come  up  here,  just  for  a  chat,  you  know  ?  " 

Kate  looked  rather  doubtful  as  to  the  task 
assigned  to  her,  but  went  down-stairs  to  per- 
form it  without  making  any  further  observa- 
tion. And  in  a  few  minutes  she  returned 
with  her  sister. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


249 


cn.vrTER  XLvr. 

THE   FAIUY    IN   HER  WICKED   MOOD. 

Margaret,  as  it  may  be  supposed,  had  not 
been  passing  happy  hours  since  her  return 
homo  on  the  morning  after  the  abortive 
scheme  of  elopement.  She  was  in  truth  very 
exceedingly  miserable.  Blank  despair  as  to 
the  future  ;  ever-present  fear  of  the  exposure 
each  passing  hour  might  bring  with  it  ;  a 
feeling  of  hostility  against  and  separation 
from  those  around  her,  who  should  have  been 
near  and  dear  to  her ;  a  consciousness  that 
she  stood  alone  in  the  midst  of  that  family 
who  seemed  all  to  feel  together,  to  act  to- 
gether, and  to  understand  each  other  so  per- 
fectly ;  and  lastly,  a  burning  and  consuming 
rage  and  intensity  of  hatred  against  the  false 
traitor,  who  had  foiled  her  schemes,  dashed 
down  her  hopes,  and  brutally  and  knowingly 
exposed  her  to  the  suflering,  the  mortifica- 
tion, the  affront,  the  ridicule  of  such  a  catas- 
trophe as  she  had  undergone  ; — all  these  un- 
ruly sentiments  and  passions  were  making 
Margaret  supremely  miserable,  during  those 
days  of  hopelessness,  and  yet,  in  some  sort, 
of  suspense. 

Lady  Farnleigh's  presence  at  the  Chase 
had  added  a  new  source  of  annoyance  and 
disquietude  to  all 'those  which  were  torment- 
ing her.  She  had  an  instinctive  dread  and 
dislike  of  Lady  Farnleigh,  and  it  seemed  to 
her  as  if  it  were  fated  that  the  dreadful  ex- 
posure which  was  hanging  over  her  should 
be  made  to  fall  upon  her  by  no  other  hand. 

It  may  readily  be  imagined,  therefore,  that 
when  Kate  came  into  the  drawing-room, 
where  Miss  Immy  was  sitting  bolt  upright  at 
the  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  tran- 
quilly perusing  the  pages  of  "Clarissa  Har- 
lowe,"  and  Margaret  was  sitting  on  a  sofa  by 
the  side  of  the  fireplace  with  a  book  hanging 
listlessly  from  her  hand,  while  her  restless 
thoughts  were  occupied  on  a  very  different 
subject,  and  walking  up  close  to  the  latter, 
said  in  a  low  and  rather  hesitating  voice, — 

"  Margaret,  dear,  Lady  Farnleigh  is  going 
to  leave  us  early  to-morrow  morning,  and 
she  wants  before  going  to  have  a  chat  with  ' 
you; — so  much  has  happened,  you  know,! 
since  she  left  Sillshire, — and  she  thought  ] 
that  you  would  like  better  to  come  up  to  my 
room,  where  we  can  be  snug  by  ourselves,  [ 
you  know — will  you  come?  "  i 

Margaret's  first  impulse  was  to  refuse  the  i 
invitation.     She  looked  up  sulkily  and  de- 1 


fiantly  iuto  Kate's  face,  as  the  latter  stood 
over  her,  anxious  and  ill  at  ease. 

"  Do  come,  there's  a  dear  !  she  is  so  kind," 
said  Kate,  still  speaking  very  low,  while  Miss 
Immy  remained  profoundly  absorbed  in  her 
well-known  romance. 

"  Oh,  very  kind, — so  kind, — especially  to 
me  !  "  sneered  Margai-et.     And  as  she  spoke,  I 

the  spirit  of  defiance  rose  in  her,  and  a  feel-  | 

ing  that  what  she  dreaded  must  needs  come,  ' 

and  that  less  of  torture  and  suffering  would 
arise  from  meeting  her  enemy  and  doing  bat- 
tle on  the  spot  than  from  suspense  and  fear 
and  the  consciousness  of  appearing  to  be 
afraid, — a  feeling  very  Similar  to  that  of  an 
animal  hunted  till  it  turns  at  bay, — took  pos- 
session of  her,  and  she  added,  "  Yes,  I  will 
come  !    It  will  be  the  sooner  over." 

And  getting  up  from  the  sofa  as  she  spoke,  | 

and  flinging  the  volume  in  her  hand  on  the  I 

place   from   which  she  had  risen,  she  drew  J 

herself  up  slowly,  and  as  if  lazily,  to  her  \ 

full  height,  and  stalked  haughtily  and  sul- 
lenly to  the  door. 

Kate  followed,  not  a  little  dismayed  at 
these  indications  of  her  sister's  state  of  mind, 
and  looking  forward  with  anything  but  pleas- 
ure to  her  share  in  the  coming  interview.  It 
was  no  small  relief  to  her,  therefore,  when, 
as  she  was  following  her  sister  up  the  stairs, 
the  latter  suddenly  turned,  and  with  lower- 
ing brow,  said,— 

"  Lady  Farnleigh  is  in  your  room,  you 
said,  I  think?"  '  ! 

"  Yes,  in  my  rooom,  Margaret.  She  is 
waiting  for  us  there." 

"  But  if  I  am  to  be  lectured,  I  prefer  that 
it  should  not  be  done  before  lookers-on.     You  i 

saw  her  by  yourself,  and  have  made  good  I 

your  own  story.  I  will  see  her  alone,  too,  if 
I  am  to  see  her  at  all.  I  will  go  into  my 
room,  and  she  may  come  to  me  there,  or,  if 
you  like  to  be  shut  out  of  your  room  for  a 
few  minutes,  I  will  go  to  her  there." 

"To  be  sure,  Margaret,  if  you  wish  it !  || 

You  can  go  into  my  room.     I  will  not  come ;  | 

I  will  go  down-stairs  to  Miss  Immy,"  said 
Kate,   absolutely  cowed   and    frightened  by  ' 

Margaret's  tone,  and  the  haughty,  lowering 
scowl  that  sat  upon  her  brow. 

It  was  impossible  that  the  grace  and  beauty 
of  movement  assured  by  jNIargarefs  perfect 
figure  and  bearing  should  ever  be  alDsent 
from  her.  And  as  she  entered  Kate's  room, 
with  bold  defiance  in  her  large,  dark.  '»peo 


250 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


eyes  and  in  the  carriage  of  her  head  and  neck, 
with  sullen  but  haughty  displeasure  on  her 
beautiful  brow,  there  was  something  grandly 
tragic  in  her  whole  appearance,  worthy  of 
the  study  of  a  Siddons.  Lady  Farnleigh 
could  not  help  looking  at  her  with  a  glance 
in  which  a  certain  measure  of  admiration 
mingled  with  her  disapproval  and  dislike. 
And  jNIargaret,  as  she  entered,  eyed  her  ene- 
my— as  she  was  determined  to,  and  was  per- 
haps partly  justified  in,  considering  her — 
with  the  look  with  which  a  toreador  may  be 
supposed  to  regard  his  adversary  in  the  ring. 

"  Thank  you  for  coming  up  to  me,  Marga- 
ret," said  Lady  Farnleigh  ;  "  I  thought  that 
we  could  have  a  little  talk  about  all  this  un- 
toward business  more  comfortably  up  here 
than  in  the  drawing-room.  Is  not  Kate  com- 
ing?" she  added,  as  Margaret  closed  the 
door  behind  her. 

"No,  Lady  Farnleigh,  she  is  not!  I  told 
her  that  if  you  had  anything  to  say  to  me 
about — matters  that  concern  me  only,  I  chose, 
if  I  heard  it  at  all,  to  hear  it  alone." 

And  the  tall,  slender  figure,  in  its  black 
silk  dress,  remained  standing — in  an  attitude 
that  might  have  become  Juno  in  her  wrath, 
— in  front  of  Lady  Farnleigh. 

The  latter  raised  her  eyes  to  the  pale, 
handsome,  lowering  face,  with  an  expression 
of  surprise  in  them,  and  gazed  at  her  fixedly 
for  a  moment  or  two,  before  saying, — 

"  Well,  perhaps  you  were  right. — perhaps 
it  will  be  better  so.  You  spoke  as  if  you 
had  doubted,  Margaret,  whether  you  would 
consent  to  talk  with  me  at  all  upon  the  events 
that  have  been  happening  here.  It  would 
be  very  reasonable  that  you  should  have  such 
a  feeling  as  regards  any  stranger — any  one 
out  of  your  own  family — except  myself.  Per- 
haps I  ought  to  recall  to  you  the  facts  that 
give  me  a  right  to  consider  myself  entitled  to 
such  exception." 

"  Yes,  Lady  Farnleigh  ;  I  should  like  to 
hear  that!  "  replied  Margaret,  drily,  and  all 
but  insolently. 

"  "When  your  dear  and  admirable  mother 
died,  Margaret,"  returned  Lady  Farnleigh, 
after  holding  her  hand  before  her  eyes  for  a 
moment  of  thoughtfulness,  "  leaving  you  and 
Kate  motherless  infants,  I  promised  her  to 
act  a  mother's  part  toward  you  as  far  as 
should  be  possible.  I  have  done  so  as  re- 
gards your  sister  to  the  utmost  of  my  power, 
with  your  good  father's  sanction  and  approv- 


al, ever  since.  I  have,  as  you  well  know, 
had  no  opportunity  of  keeping  my  promise 
to  your  mother  as  regards  yourself,  hitherto. 
But  now  that  circumstances  have  brought 
you  back  among  us,  and  more  especially  now 
that  a  second  series  of  unforeseen  and  unfor- 
tunate occurrences  have  unhappily  changed 
the  brilliant  prospects  that  -were  before  yon, 
it  would  be  a  great  grief  to  me  if  anything — 
either  in  your  conduct,  or  your  will — should 
prevent  me  from  being  to  you  what  I  trust  I 
have  always  been  to  Kate." 

For  an  instant  the  latter  words  suggested 
to  Margaret's  mind  the  possibility  that  Lady 
Farnleigh  meant  to  tell  her  that  if  she  was  a 
good  girl,  there  should  be  six  thousand 
pounds  for  her,  also,  as  well  as  for  Kate. 
But  a  moment's  consideration  convinced  her 
that  if  Lady  Farnleigh  had  more  money  to 
leave,  it  would  be  all  for  Kate ;  and  even  if 
she  had  been  inclined  to  suppose  that  the 
chance  of  such  a  piece  of  good  fortune  was 
before  her,  her  imperious  temper,  and  the 
spirit  of  defiant  rebellion  which  seemed  to 
her  to  be  her  only  refuge  in  the  storms  that 
were  about  to  break  over  her,  were  at  that 
moment  too  strongly  in  the  ascendant,  and 
too  entirely  had  possession  of  her  soul,  for  it 
to  have  'been  possible  for  her  to  suppress 
them,  even  for  the  sake  of  securing  it.  The 
utmost  she  could  bring  herself  to  do,  was  to 
say,  with  sullen  majesty,  and  without  taking 
a  seat,— 

"  What  was  it  you  wished  to  say  to  me. 
Lady  Farnleigh?  " 

Kate's  fairy  godmother,  though  one  of  the 
kindest  and  lovingest  natures  in  existence, 
was  not  endowed  with  a  very  meek  or  long- 
enduring  temper  ;  and  Margaret's  sullen  and 
evidently  hostile  manner  and  words  were  rap- 
idly using  up  the  small  stock  of  it  remaining 
on  hand.  So  Lady  Farnleigh  replied,  with 
more  acerbity  in  her  tone  than  would  have 
been  the  case  if  that  of  Margaret  had  been 
less  provocative, — 

"  I  fear,  Margaret,  you  have  been  acting 
far  from — judiciously,  let  us  say,  in  the  mat- 
ter of  this  match  with  Mr.  Falconer,  which 
is  now,  I  am  told,  broken  off." 

"  I  must  take  leave,  Lady  Farnleigh,  to 
think  that  I  have  been  sufficiently  well  in- 
structed in  all  that  propriety  requires  of  a 
young  lady  on  such  occasions,  to  make  it  un- 
necessary for  me  to  consult  the  opinion  of — 
persona  whose  authority  I  certainly  should 


LINDISFARN    CHASE, 


251 


never  think  of  preferring  to  that  of  the  dear 
friends  who  superintended  my  education." 

"  And  you  think  those  friends  would  have 
approved  y»ur  recent  conduct?  " 

"  I  do  not  see  what  there  has  been  to 
blame  in  it.  When  addressed,  in  a  manner 
which  tlic  ways  of  this  country  render  per- 
missible, by  a  gentleman  whom  I  was  justi- 
fied in  considering  a  good  and  eligible  parii, 
I  gave  him  only  a  conditional  assent,  leav- 
ing him  to  seek  his  definite  answer  from 
papa." 

"  Quite  en  regie,  Miss  Margaret !  But  do 
you  think  that  you  were  justified,  under  the 


only  the  weakness  of  one  moment.  In  the 
next  she  attempted  to  hurl  back  the  accusa- 
tion which  she  could  not  parry. 

"  Honor  and  honesty  !  "  she  said,  with  a 
cold,  withering  sneer  upon  her  brow  and  lips. 
"  With  what  sort  of  honor  and  honesty  have 
I  been  treated?  With  what  sort  of  honor 
and  honesty  has  your  favorite  Kate  and  have 
you  yourself,  Lady  Farnleigh,  treated  me? 
My  sister  runs  to  you  with  tales  which,  as 
far  as  there  is  any  truth  in  them,  she  was 
bound  in  the  most  sacred  manner  and  by  the 
most  solemn  engagements  to  keep  secret  ; 
and  you  avail  yourself  of  your  position  and 
peculiar  circumstances  of  the  case,  in  giving  i  superior  experience  to  worm  out  from  her 
that  conditional  assent  and  sending  the  anx-  1  the  means  of  injuring  a  friendless  girl,  whom 
ious  gentleman  to  '  ask  papa  '  in  the  man-  |  you  cannot  forgive  for  having  what  your  pro- 
ner  you  speak  of,— justified,  not  by  the  con-  [  tegee  never  had  nor  never  will  have.  Honor 
ventiunalities  of  this  or  of  that  country,  but  '  and  honesty,  indeed  !  " 

by  the  laws  of  simple  honesty  and  honor?  "  "  If  you  had  a  tenth  part  of  your  sister's 

"  Simple  honesty  and  honor.  Lady  Farn-  honor  and  honesty  in  your  heart,  Margaret, 
leigh  !  "  cried  ]\Iargaret,  while  the  blood  be-  j  it  would  not  occur  to  you  to  suppose  that  she 
gan  to  mount  rapidly  in  her  beautiful  pale  \  had  betrayed  your  secret  to  me.  She  is  not 
checks,  and  to  tingle  there  very  unpleasantly.  I  even  aware  that  I  know  it.  But  it  so  hap- 
"  Yes,  JIargaret,  honor  and  honesty.  Was  pens  that  I  do  know  that  you  were  made  ac- 
it  honorable  or  honest  to  accept  such  a  pro-  quainted  with  the  error  as  to  your  Cousin 
posal,  knowing  that  the  maker  of  it  was  un-  !  Julian's  death,  and  were  perfectly  aware  of 


der  grievously  erroneous  impressions  as  to 
the  circumstances  wtiich  made  you  an  '  eligi- 
ble parti,'  as  you  phrase  it,  in  his  eyes?  " 

"  You  allude — rather  unfeelingly,  I  must 
say.  Lady  Farnleigh — to  tlie  great  misfortune 
which  has  fallen  upon  my  sister  and  me. 
But  you  perhaps  are  not  aware,  having  been 
absent  from  Sillshire  at  the  time,  the  propo- 
sal in  question  was  made,  and  the  reply  to  it, 
which  you  are  pleased  to  criticise,  given,  be- 
fore the  facts  you   refer  to  were  known," 


the  result  which  that  must  exercise  on  your 
own  position,  about  a  month  before  your  ac- 
ceptance of  Mr.  Falconer's  ofier." 

"  1  knew  only  what  Kate  knew  also, — 
knew  nothing,  indeed,  but  what  she  told 
me." 

"  Quite  true,  Margaret.  Kate  had  the 
same  unfortunate  knowledge  that  you  had, 
— and  you  both  of  you  used  it  in  your  own 
fashion." 

Used  it !    Why,  what  could  I  have  done, 


said  Margaret,  still  doubting  whether  Lady    I  should  like  to  know?   I  don't  know  whether 


Farnleigh  were  indeed  in  possession  of  the 
real  facts  of  the  case, — not  seeing,  indeed, 
any  possibility  by  which  they  could  have 
reached  her, — and  determined  to  fight  her 
battle  with  a  bold  front  to  the  last. 

"  Margaret !  "  said  Lady  Farnleigh,  in  re- 
ply, looking  her  steadily  in  the  eyes  as  she 


the  spy  and  informer  from  whom  you  have 
obtained  your  information.  Lady  Farnleigh, 
told  you  also  that  I  was  bound  not  to  divulge 
the  fact  of  my  cousin's  being  alive, — that  it 
was  impossible  for  me  to  do  so.  What  could 
I  do  then?  I  waited — how  impatiently  none 
will  ever   know — for   the   moment   when  it 


spoke,  "  the  facts  I  refer  to  were  not  known  would  be  permitted  me  to  tell  Mr.  Falconer 
to  Mr.  Falconer,  or  to  any  one  else  in  Silver-  I  the  truth,  and  was  compelled  to  content  my- 
ton,  at  the  time  when  he  made  his  proposal   self  in   the  mean  time  with  the  conviction, 


to  you  ;  but  they  were  kxowx  to  you  !  " 

Margaret  almost  reeled  under  the  force  of 
this  direct  and  terrible  blow.  Her  first  im- 
pulse was  to  hide  her  burning  face  with  her 
hands  and  rush  out  of  the  room  ;  but  it  was 


that  his  motive  in  addressing  me  was  not 
money,  and  that  the  discovery  that  I  had  it 
not  would  not  change  his  sentiments  toward 
me." 

"  And  are  you  still  supported  by  that  con- 


252 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


viction,  moy  I  ask?"  said  Lady  Farnleigii, 
unable  tu  prevent  a  certain  amount  of  sneer 
from  betraying  itself  in  her  tone. 

"  Of  course  I  cannot  suppose,  Lady  Farn- 
leigb,  that  Mr.  Falconer  can  be  so  base  as 
to  dream  of  retreating  from  his  engagement 
because  it  turns  out  that  I  may  be  less 
richly  dowered  than  he  had  imagined.  It  is 
hardly  likely  that,  if  I  could  have  conceived 
him  to  be  capable  of  such  conduct,  I  could 
for  an  instant  have  listened  to  his  address- 
es." 

There  was  an  audacity  of  falsehood  in  this 
speech  which  provoked  Lady  Farnleigh  into 
pushing  Margaret  more  hardly  than  it  had 
been  her  intention  to  do  when  she  began  the 
conversation.  She  could  not  refrain  from 
saying, — 

"But  surely,  your  conviction  must  have 
been  somewhat  shaken  upon  the  subject, 
when  the  gentleman  failed  to  keep  his  ap- 
pointment at  six  o'clock,  at  your  uncle's  gar- 
den-gate ;  particularly  when  you  remem- 
bered that  that  sudden  change  in  his  plans, 
which  left  you  so  cruelly  in  the  lurch,  took 
place  just  about  the  time  when  the  news  of 
your  not  being  the  heiress  to  your  father's 
acres  became  known  in  Silverton." 

"  It  is  infamous!  It  is  shameful  !  " 
screamed  Margaret,  throwing  herself  sud- 
denly on  the  little  sofa  by  the  side  of  Kate's 
fireplace,  and  bursting  into  a  flood  of  tears — 
very  characteristically  feeling  the  exposure 
of  her  having  been  duped  and  ill-treated  far 
more  keenly  than  the  detection  of  her  own 
sharp  practice  toward  another.  "  You  wick- 
ed, wicked  woman  !  "  she  cried,  "  spying 
and  setting  traps  for  people,  and  then  tri- 
umphing in  their  ill-fortune.  It  is  too  bad, — 
too  bad.  I  shall  die, — I  shall  die  !  I  wish  I 
may  !  Oh,  why  was  I  ever  sent  to  this  horrid 
country  and  this  cruel  house  !  " 

And  then  her  passionate  sobbing  became 
inarticulate,  and  she  seemed  in  danger  of 
falling  into  a  fit  of  hysterics. 

"  I  don't  think  you  will  die,  Margaret," 
said  Lady  Farnleigh,  it  must  be  admitted 
somewhat  cruelly  ;  "  but  perhaps  it  might 
be  better  if  you  had  your  stay-lace  cut.  I 
will  go  and  send  Simmons  to  you." 

And  so  the  executioner  of  this  retribution 
left  the  victim  writhing,  and  convulsively 
sobbing  in  the  extremity  of  her  mortification, 
and  the  agony  of  her  crushing  defeat. 


en  AFTER   XLII. 
AT  THE   LINDISFARN   STONE   ONCE  MOKE. 

NoTWiTUSTANDiNG  the  Very  decided  convic- 
tion that  Margaret's  conduct  richly  d(.>served 
far  more  severe  and  more  serious  punish- 
ment than  the  mauvais  quart  (Vheure  which 
Lady  Farnleigh  had  inflicted  upon  her,  the 
fairy  godmother,  on  rejoining  Kate,  felt 
rather  repentant  and  annoyed  that  hers  sliould 
have  been  the  hand,  or  rather  the  tongue,  to 
inflict  even  that  modicum  of  retribution. 
She  was  evidently  "  out  of  sorts,"  when  she 
went  down-stairs  and  found  Kate  in  the 
drawing-room . 

"  Margaret  has  been  behaving  excessively 
ill,  my  dear,"  she  said,  in  answer  to  Kate's 
questioning  look, — "most  ungraciously  and 
ill-temperedly  to  me  ;  but  that  is  nothing  ;  she 
has  been  behaving  most  unpardonably  to  Mr. 
Falconer, — behaving  in  a  manner  amply  justi- 
fying any  abruptness  of  breaking  offon  his  part, 
and  you  may  depend  upon  it  that  he  will  not 
be  remiss  in  availing  himself  of  the  justifica- 
tion. To  think  of  her  accepting  the  man, 
when  she  knew  all  about  the  change  in  her 
position,  and  knew  that  he  did  not  know 
it!  " 

"  Godmamma  !  "  said  Kate,  aghast. 
"  Yes,  Miss  Kate.     Do  you  think  I  am  a 
fairy  godmamma  for  nothing?" 

"  I  cannot  smile  about  it,  godmamma," 
said  Kate,  sadly. 

"  In  truth,  my  dear,  it  is  no  smiling  mat- 
ter. I  am  deeply  grieved  ;  and  I  am  sure 
that  your  father  will  feel  it  sorely." 

"  But,  godmamma,"  said  Kate,  timidly 
and  hesitatingly,  after  a  pause  ;  "  didMargaret 
tell  you  she  was  avare  of  Julian's  secret  at 
the  time  of  the  oflc.  :'  " 

"  No,  Kate,  she  did  not,"  replied  Lady 
Farnleigh,  looking  into  Kate's  face  with  a 
shrewd  glance,  half  aggressive  and  half  arch, 
"  she  did  not  tell  me;  but  I  knew  all  about  it, 
for  all  that." 

"  You  did  not  tell  me  that,  godmamma," 
returned  Kate,  a  little  reproachfully  ;  but 
feeling  at  the  same  time,  despite  her  vexation 
at  Margaret's  detection,  an  irrepressible  sen- 
sation of  relief  at  the  reflection  that  Lady 
Farnleigh,  though  she  had  not  chosen  to  say 
so,  must  be  cognizant  of  the  fact  that  she,  also, 
was  in  possession  of  the  same  information  at 
the  time  when  she  had  refused  EUingham. 
"  You  know  then  also,  I  suppose,"  con- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


tinned  Kate,  after  a  pause  of  some  seconds, 
"  that  Margaret  was  not  at  liberty  to  tell  Mr. 
Falconer  the  real  state  of  the  case  when  he 
proposed  to  her  ?  ' ' 

"  Yes,  Kate,  I  know  that  too,"  answered 
Lady  Farnleigh,  witii  the  same  look,  half 
affectionate  and  half  quizzing,  which  her  Aicc 
had  worn  before  ;  "  and  I  admit  that  the  situ- 
ation was  a  cruelly  painful  and  very  difficult 
one  ; — or  at  least  that  it  would  have  been  so 
to  Botiie  people." 

"  Margaret  did  not  know  what  to  do,  you 
see,  godmamma.  What  could  she  have 
done  ?  ' ' 

"  Refuse  hira,  my  dear  !  "  said  Lady  Farn- 
leigh, shortly. 

And  then  there  was  silence  between  them 
for  a  long  while. 

Lady  Farnleigh  started,  as  she  said  she 
wduld,  immediately  after  breakfast  the  next 
morning  on  her  return  to  Wanstrow  Manor. 
And  at  an  early  hour  on  the  following — the 
Monday — morning  Captain  EUingham  arrived 
there,  as  she  had  expected.  The  station  to 
which  he  had  been  moved  from  Sillmouth 
was  on  the  northern  coast  of  Sillshire,  whereas 
the  latter  little  port  is  situated  on  the  south- 
ern side  of  that  large  county.  The  distance, 
therefore,  which  he  had  had  to  travel  in  obedi- 
ence to  Lady  Farnleigh "s  behest  was  not  a  very 
long  one.  It  had  so  happened  that  the  exi- 
gencies of  the  service  had  permitted  him  to 
start  for  Wanstrow  almost  immediately  on 
the  receipt  of  her  letter  ;  and  he  had  not  lost 
many  hours  in  doing  so. 

I  hardly  think  that  there  is  any  necessity 
for  relating  the  conversation  which  passed 
between  hira  and  Lady  Farnleigh  on  his 
arrival.  For  the  gist  of  it  may  be  inferred 
from  what  subsequently  happened.  And  it 
was,  at  all  events,  a  short  one  ;  for  it  was 
barely  twelve"  o'clock  when  he  reached  Lin- 
disfarn. 

^largaret  had  declared  herself  ill,  as  ill  at 
ease  enough  she  doubtless  was,  ever  since  her 
stormy  conversation  with  Lady  Farnleigh, 
and  had  secluded  herself  in  her  own  room. 
The  squire  was  busy  in  his  study,  as  he  had 
been  for  many  more  hours  in  tlie  day  than 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  spending  within  doors, 
ever  since  that  ill-boding  visit  from  Mr.  Slow- 
come.  Mr.  Mat  was  absent  for  the  day.  He 
bad  taken  a  horse  early  in  the  morning,  be- 
fore Kate  was  down,  and  had  told  the  serv- 
ants that  ho  should  not  come  home  till  the 


253 


evening,  and  possibly  not  till  the  morrow. 
Miss  Immy  alone  pursued  the  even  tenor  of 
her  way,  uninfluenced,  though  assuredly  not 
unmindful  of  the  misfortune  that  had  fallen 
on  the  family.  But  that  even  tenor  of  her 
daily  occupation  prevented  her  from  being 
ever  seen  in  the  urawing-room  till  after  lun- 
cheon. And  Kate  therefore,  since  Lady  Farn- 
leigh's  departure,  had  felt  unusually  lonely 
and  depressed  in  spirits. 

After  having,  as  soon  as  breakfast  was  over 
on  that  Monday  morning,  vainly  attempted 
to  compel  her  mind  to  fix  itself  on  her  usual 
employments  in  her  room,  she  gave  up  the 
fruitless  struggle,  and  yielding  to  the  rest- 
lessness which  was  upon  her,  strolled  down 
into  the  stable  to  try  if  she  could  get  rid  of 
half  an  hour  in  the  society  of  Birdie. 

The  stables  at  Lindisfarn  were  not  placed 
at  the  back  of  the  house,  so  as  to  be  out  of 
sight  of  the  approaches  tf)  it,  partly,  proba- 
bly, because  there  was  no  space  there,  unless 
it  were  made  by  the  sacrifice  of  some  of  tlie 
noble  old  trees  of  the  Lindisfarn  woods, 
which  just  behind  the  house  came  down  al- 
most close  upon  it  and  upon  the  gardens  ; 
and  partly,  perhaps,  because  the  Lindisfarn 
who  had  raised  the  handsome  block  of  liuild- 
ings  which  contained  them  was  disposed  to 
consider  that  department  of  his  mansion  quite 
as  much  entitled  to  a  prominent  position  as 
any  other.  So  it  was,  however,  whatever  the 
cause,  that  at  Lindisfarn  the  stables  stood  at 
right  angles  to  the  front  of  the  house,  the 
front  stable-yard  (for  there  was  a  back  stable- 
yard  behind,  which  served  for  the  more  un- 
sightly portions  of  a  stable-yard's  functions), 
— the  front  stable-yard  was  divided  from  the 
drive  by  which  the  entrance  to  the  mansion 
was  reached,  only  by  a  low  parapet  wall. 
There  was  a  broad  stone  coping  on  the  top  of 
it,  which  made  a  very  convenient  seat  for 
Bayard,  the  old  hound,  who  was  wont  to  lie 
there  on  sunny  days,  with  his  great  black 
muzzle  between  his  huge  paws,  meditatively, 
by  the  hour  together. 

It  was  one  of  the  first  genial  mornings  of 
spring  in  that  southwestern  country  ;  the  old 
hound,  whose  muzzle  in  truth  was  beginning 
to  have  more  gray  than  black  in  it,  had 
taken  his  favorite  seat  on  the  low  wall  in  the 
sunshine  ;  and  Kate,  leaving  the  etable-door 
open,  had  come  out  to  bestow  on  her  other 
playfellow  a  share  of  her  attention. 

She  was  sitting  on  the  wall  in  fi'ont  of  the 


254 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


fine  old  dog,  and  was,  in  fact,  giving  him  such  mounting,  "  I  was  anxiously  debating  with 
portion  of  her  attention  as  she  could  com-  myself,  as  I  rode  up  the  hill,  whether  I  could 
mand.  It  was  but  a  small  share,  and  evi-  hope  that,  when  a  message  was  brought  you 
dently  much  less  than  old  Bayard  was  dis-  ,  that  I  was  here  and  begging  to  see  you,  you 
posed  to  content  himself  with  ;  for  he  had  i  would  grant  me  an  interview  or  not.  Now  my 
stretched  out  one  magnificent  fore-arm  and  good  fortune  has  secured  for  me  the  chance  of 
paw  till  it  rested  on  Kate's  lap,  and  he  was  at  least  preferring  my  petition  in  person.  May 
shoving  his  cold  nose  into  her  hand  as  it  rest-  ,  I  hope  that,  when  I  have  found  somebody  in 
ed  on  the  edge  of  the  coping  stone,  evidently  the  stables  to  take  my  horse,  you  will  allow 
bent  on  recalling  to  himself  his  mistress's  i  me  to  speak  with  you  for  a  few  minutes? 
wandering  thoughts.  But  they  were  roving  For  that  is  the  sole  object  of  my  coming  hith- 
far  away,  and  would  not  come  back  for  all  ]  er  ;  and  I  know  it  will  be  a  potent  backing 
old  Bayard's  wistful  caresses,  favorite  as  he  ',  of  my  request,  when  I  assure  you  that  I  am 
was.  1  here  in  accordance   with   the  counsel    and 

She  was  sitting  thus  when  the  sound  of  a  wishes  of  Lady  Farnleigh." 
horse's  feet,  coming  in  a  sharp  canter  round  j  "  It  is  a  potent  backing,  Captain  Elling- 
a  curve  in  the  road  from  the  lodge-gate,  fell  ham,"  said  Kate,  who  had  had  time  to  re- 
on  her  ear  and  on  old  Bayard's  at  the  same  cover  herself  in  some  degree  while  Ellingham 
moment.  The  ground  fell  away  very  steeply  was  speaking  ;  "  but  there  is  no  need  of  any 
from  the  terrace  in  front  of  the  house  to  the  such  to  make  me  say  that  you  are  welcome 
lodge;    and  that  part  of  the   bending  road   at  Lindisfarn." 

which  the  rider  was  passing  was  hidden  from  i  A  groom  came  out  from  the  stables,  and 
the  spot  where  Kate  and  Bayard  were,  by  a  took  Captain  EUingham's  horse  from  him,  as 
large  mass  of  very  luxuriant  laurustinus  and  Kate  spoke ;  and  she  was  leading  the  way 
Portugal  laurel.  Kate's  first  notion  was  that  towards  the  front-door  of  the  house,  when 
Mr.  Mat  was   unexpectedly   returning,  and    he  said, — 

very  hurriedly  ;  for  it  was  not  like  him  to'  "  Miss  Lindisfarn,  I  shall  be  delighted  to 
gallop  his  horse  up  to  the  door,  and  leave  ,  see  all  my  kind  friends  here,  after  I  have  had 
him  steaming  hot.  But  Bayard  knew  better.  ;  a  little  conversation  with  you  alone.  It  is 
The  hoof-falls  that  disturbed  his  reverie  ;  for  that  purpose  that  I  have  come  here,  with 
were,  he  was  quite  sure,  the  produce  of  no  the  approval  of  our  dear  and  excellent  friend, 
hoofs  that  lived  in  his  stables  ;  so  he  roused    Lady  Farnleigh." 

himself,  jumped  down  from  the  wall,  and  ut- I  "  If  she  wishes — that  is,  if  you  think; 
tered  a  short,  interrogative  bark.  In  the  next  Captain  Ellingham — that  Lady  Farnleigh 
instant,  a  horse  at  full  gallop  swept  round  the  would  think — I  am  sure — if  there  is  any- 
large  mass  of  evei'gi'eens ;  and  in  the  next  thing" — stammered  Kate,  making,  for  such 
after,  the  seaman's  horsemanship  of  Captain  '  an  usually  straightforward  speaker,  a  very 
Ellingham,  aided  by  the  effect  of  the  stable-  '  lame  attempt  at  any  intelligible  utterance, 
scent  on  his  steed's  organs,  brought  him  to  a  i  "  When  the  sentence  that  has  been  pro- 
stand  sharply  at  the  spot  where  Kate  and  her  j  nounced  on  a  criminal,  Miss  Lindisfarn,  is  by 
companion  were.  any  good  hap  to  be  reversed,"  said  Ellingham, 

The  latter  alone  seemed  to  be  at  all  inclined  ;  coming  to  her  assistance  by  taking  upon  him- 
to  practise  the  hospitable  duties  proper  to  self  the  active  share  of  the  conversation, 
the  occasion.  After  a  very  short  and  per-  which  he  seemed  somehow  to  be  much  more 
functory  examination  of  the  strange  horse,  :  capable  of  doing  satisfactorily  than  he  had 
Bayard  at  once  showed  his  recollection  of  {  been  on  the  last  occasion  of  a  tete-d-tete  be- 
Captain  Ellingham,  and  welcomed  him  to  j  tween  him  andKate, — "  when  sentence  upon 
Lindisfarn.  But  if  Kate  did  not  turn  and  la  criminal  is  to  be  reversed,  it  is  usual  and 
run,  it  was  only  because  her  feet  seemed  !  right  that  the  revised  decision  should  be 
rooted  to  the  spot  on  which  she  was  stand-  ;  pronounced,  as  far   as  may  be,   before  the 

audience  which  was  present  at  the  first. 
Would  you  object  to  walk  with  me  ?  "  he  con- 
tinued, meaningly,  after  a  considerable  pause, 
"  through  the  woods  up  to  Lindisfarn  brow  ?  " 
Kate  shot  one  short,  sharp,  inquiring  glance 


"  Captain    Ellingham  !  "    she   said,   and 
could  proceed  to  no  further  greeting  ;  for  her 
tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  her  mouth. 
"  Miss  Lindisfarn,"  said  Ellingham,  dis- 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


at  him  from  under  her  downcast  eyelashes, 
as  she  said,  "  If  you  like,  I  will  walk  with 
you  up  to  the  brow.  Captain  Ellingham  ; 
but  I  am  afraid  there  can  be  no  reversal  of 
anything  tliat  ever  passed  there." 

"  I  cannot  submit  to  have  my  appeal  dis- 
missed without,  at  least,  a  hearing  of  the 
grounds  on  which  it  is  urged." 

And  then  they  walked  on  a  little  way 
side  by  side  in  silence,  till  Kate,  feeling  that 
the  silence  was  acquiring  a  force  with  a  geo- 
metrical rate  of  progression,  as  it  continued, 
in  that  mysterious  way  that  such  silences  do 
increase  the  intensity  of  their  significance  by 
duration,  and  determined  therefore  to  break 
it  at  all  hazards,  said, — 

"  IIow  different  these  woods  are  looking 
from  what  they  were  when  we  were  last  up 
here  together  !  Do  you  remember  all  the 
traces  of  the  recent  storm  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  and  iiow  the  poor  old  wood 
had  been  mauled  and  torn.  I  hated  these 
fine  old  woods  then  ;  but  I  have  no  spite 
against  them  now." 

"Hated  Lindisfarn  woods?  And  I  do  so 
love  them !  Why  did  you  hate  our  old 
woods?  And  what  has  brought  you  into  a 
better  frame  of  mind  ?  "  said  Kate,  more 
quietly  than  she  had  spoken  before. 

"  I  felt  spiteful  against  these  hills  and 
woods,  and  against  all  the  beautiful  country 
tliey  look  down  on,  because  all  these  fine 
Lindisfarn  acres  were  so  many  ramparts  and 
bulwarks  and  fortifications,  all  increasing 
the  impossibility  of  scaling  the  fortress, 
■which  all  my  hope  of  happiness  depended 
on  my  conquering — on  which  my  hope  still 
depends  !  But  I  do  not  hate  the  Lindisfarn 
acres  any  longer ;  for  they  no  longer  stand 
between  me  and  my  goal." 

"  Oh,  Captain  Ellingham  !  "  said  Kate, 
almost  too  much  agitated  to  sheak,  yet  dash- 
ing out  in  desperation  to  defend  the  Lindis- 
farn acres  from  any  such  maleficent  influence  ; 
"  You  told  me,  you  know" — 

"  Yes,  Miss  Lindisfarn,  1  told  you  that  I 
was  well  persuaded  that  your  rejection  of  my 
suit,  though  it  was  altogether  unassigned  to 
any  motive,  did  not  rest  on  any  cause  of  the 
kind  I  have  been  alluding  to.  I  was  and  am 
thoroughly  convinced  of  that  fact.  And  for 
tliat  reason.  Miss  Lindisfarn,  I  should  not 
now  venture  to  renew  my  suit,  if  the  only 
difference  in  our  position  toward  each  other 
were  that  produced  by  your  having  then  been 


255 

supposed  lo  be  one  of  the  heiresses  to  all 
this  wealth,  and  your  now  not  being  imag- 
ined to  be  such  any  longer.  Your  rejection 
of  my  suit  was  not  caused  by  the  wide  differ- 
ence in  our  fortunes,  as  they  were  supposed 
to  stand  then  ;  therefore  I  should  not  be  jus- 
tified in  renewing  it  mei-ely  because  that 
wide  difference  has  disappeared." 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  that!  "  said  Kate, 
very  tremblingly. 

"  Yes,  I  know  that,"  said  Ellingham,  lay- 
ing considerable  emphasis  on  the  verb.  "And 
therefore  I  must  find  another  excuse  for  dar- 
ing to  ask  you  to  reconsider  the  decision  you 
then  gave  me.  Miss  Lindisfarn,  this  is 
the  excuse  :  you  did  not  refuse  me  here  last 
spring  because  you  deemed  yourself  to  be 
richly  endowed,  but  in  part,  at  least,  because 
you  were  aware  that  you  were  not  so.  May 
I  not  hope  that  that  was  the  real  deciding 
reason?  Is  that  so?"  he  added,  after  a 
considerable  pause,  during  which  Kate  could 
not  find  courage  and  calmness  enough  to  ven- 
ture on  a  reply,  although  the  thoughts  and 
feelings  which  were  making  her  heart  beat 
were  assuredly  not  of  a  painful  nature. 

"  Is  not  that  true,  Kate?  "  he  said,  again, 
whispering  the  last  word  so  low  that  it  was 
barely  audible. 

"  It  is  true,"  she  whispered,  tremulously, 
in  a  scarcely  louder  tone;  "  but  where  is 
the  change?  I  was  then,  and  am  stiW,  un- 
possessed of  wealth." 

"  Where  is  the  change  !  why,  in  this  ;  that 
you  knew  that  I  then  supposed  I  was  asking 
a  great  heiress  to  be  my  wife  ;  you  could  not 
explain  to  me  that  fact, — I  know  why  now. 
JSoio  we  both  know  all  about  this  terrible 
secret.  Noiv  that  at  least  need  be  no  barrier 
between  us.  Noiv  there  is  no  mistake. 
Noiul  am  asking  Kate  Lindisfarn,  no  heiress 
at  all,  if  she  will  bestow, — not  all  these  beau- 
tiful woods  and  fields,  which  weighed  so  heav- 
ily on  my  heart  that  I  hardly  dared  ask  at 
all  before, — but  her  hand,  rich  only  with  a 
priceless  heart  in  it,  upon  a  rough  sailor, 
who  has  little  to  offer  in  return  save  as  true 
and  strong  a  love  as  ever  man  bore  to  wo- 
man . ' ' 

He  had  got  bold  of  her  hand  while  speak- 
ing the  last  words  ;  and  she  did  not  draw  it 
away  from  his,  but  turned  her  face  away 
from  him.  And  he  made  no  attempt  to  draw 
the  trembling  little  hand  he  held  nearer  to 
him,  but  let  his  own  follow   it  to  where   it 


256 

hung  beneath  her  averted  and  drooping  face. 
And  in  that  position  he  felt  a  wet  tear  fall  on 
the  hand  which  held  hers. 

"  Have  you  no  answer  for  me,  Kate?  "  he 
■whispered  again. 

"  I  wish  I  could  have  answered  before  I 
knew  anything  about  the  change  in  the  des- 
tination of  these  woods,"  murmured  Kate, 
very  plaintively. 

"  You  wish  that !  "  he  cried  ;  "  then  this  lit- 
tle hand  is  my  own."  Arid  he  snatched  it  to 
his  lips  and  covered  it  with  kisses,  as  he 
Bpokc.  "  Dear,  dearest,  generous  girl !  But 
do  not  be  selfish  in  your  generosity,  my  Kate. 
Remember  how  much  sweeter  it  must  be  to  me 
to  ask  you  for  your  love,  when  there  can  be  no 
thought, — not  in  your  noble  heart,  my  Kate 
but  in  the  suspicions  of  the  outside  world — 
that  I  am  asking  for  aught  else." 

They  had  by  this  time  reached  the  Lindis- 
farn  stone,  and  were  sitting  side  by  side  just 
where  Kate  had  sat  on  the  day  she  had  refused 
him. 

"  This  used  to  be  a  very  favorite  seat  of 
mine  ;  but  I  have  never  been  here  since," 
said  Kate,  without  any  previous  word  having 
been  said  in  allusion  to  any  former  occasion 
of  being  there.  But  there  was  no  need  of 
any  such  explanation  of  her  meaning  ;  and 
the  mysterious  magnetism  which  so  fre- 
quently and  so  strangely  makes  coincidence  in 
the  unspoken  thoughts  of  two  minds  was  on 
this  occasion  less  inexplicable  than  it  often  is. 

"  But  now  will  you  henceforth  take  it  into 
favor  again,  Kate?  " 

"  I  wish  it  was  going  to  remain  ow'S,^'  said 
Kate,  leaving  Ellingham  at  liberty  to  under- 
stand the  communistic  possessive  pronoun  as 
referring  to  Kate  and  the  members  of  her 
family,  or  as  alluding  to  a  closer  bi-partiie 
partnership,  according  to  his  pleasure. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"  We  will  make  the  gray  old  stone  ours," 
said  Ellingham,  accepting  the  latter  inter- 
pretation, "  after  the  fashion  of  poets  in  old 
times,  and  jolly  tars  in  these  days."  And  he 
took  a  pocket-knife  from  his  pocket  as  he 
spoke.  "  Now  then  I  will  carve  '  Kate  '  on 
the  stone,  and  you  shall  cut  '  Walter,'  and 
we  will  put  a  pierced  heart  above  them,  all 
in  due  style." 

"  But  1  can't  carve,  especially  on  this  hard 
rock,"  said  Kate,  smiling. 

"  Oh,  I  will  show  you  how.  See  there 
is  my  '  Kate  '  in  orthography  very  unworthy 
of  the  dear,  dear  word.  Now  you  must 
put  '  Walter  '  underneath  it.  I  will  help 
you." 

And  he  put  the  knife  into  her  hand,  and 
proceeded  without  the  least  hurry  about  bring- 
ing the  operation  to  a  conclusion,  to  guide 
the  taper  little  fingers  to  scratch  the  required 
letters  on  the  stone. 

"  There,"  he  said,  when  the  word  was 
completed  ;  "  now  read  it,  '  Kate  and  Wal- 
ter.' Come,  sweetest,  you  must,  read  it.  It 
is  a  part  of  the  ceremony." 

So  Kato,  tremulously  whispering,  read  "Kate 
and  Walter,"  thus  pronouncing  for  that  sweet, 
formidable,  never-to-be-forgotten  first  time 
the  name  which  was  thenceforward  forever 
to  be  the  dearest  sound  for  her  that  human 
lips  could  form. 

K.  T.  A. — Kappa,  tau,  lambda!  three  Greek 
letters,  my  dear  young  lady  readers,  the  full 
and  complete  significance  of  which ,  as  used 
to  convey  a  compendious  account  of  the  re- 
mainder of  the  above-described  scene,  may  be 
with  perfect  safety  left  to  the  explanation  of 
your  unaided  intelligences,  when  it  has  been 
briefly  mentioned  that  they  stand  for  the 
words  "  and  all  the  rest  of  it." 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


CHAPTER    XLVIII. 
MR.   MAT  COMMITS   SACRILEGE  AND  FELONY. 

Mr.  Faixoxer,  senior,  did  not  go  to  Chew- 
ton  on  the  Sunday,  as  he  had  purposed.  He 
Tvas  prevented  from  doing  so,  and  went  on 
the  next  day, — that  same  Monday  on  which 
Mr.  Mat  was  absent  all  day  from  the  Chase, 
and  on  which  "  Kate  and  Walter  "  held  their 
second  session  on  the  Lindisfarn  Stone. 

!Mr.  Mat  had  said  nothing  to  anybody  re- 
Bpeeting  his  errand  ;  but  the  fact  was,  that 
he  also  had  determined  on  going  over  him- 
self to  Chewton  ;  not  with  much  hope  of  be- 
ing able  to  effect  any  good,  where  wiser  heads 
had  failed,  but  still  anxious,  as  he  said,  to 
see,  if  he  could,  what  those  ^lallorys  were 
up  to. 

Mr.  Mat  had  known  Charles  Mellish,  the 
late  curate,  well,  in  days  gone  by ;  and  to 
tell  the  truth,  they  had,  more  often  than  was 
quite  desirable, — at  all  events,  for  the  rever- 
end gentleman, — heard  the  chimes  at  mid- 
night together,  both  in  Silverton  and  out  at 
the  curate's  residence  at  Chewton.  Music 
was  the  chief  tie  between  them.  Poor  Char- 
ley Mellish, — for  he  had  been  one  of  those 
men  to  whom  that  epithet  is  always  applied, 
and  who  are  always  called  by  the  familiar 
form  of  their  Christian  names, — poor  Charley 
Mellish  had  possessed  a  grand  baritone  voice, 
which  made  very  pleasant  music  when  joined 
with  Mr.  flat's  tenor. 

Mr.  Mat  had  often  stayed  for  two  or  three 
days  together  out  at  Chewton,  in  those  pleas- 
ant but  naughty  old  bygone  times,  and  knew 
all  Mellish's  ways  and  habits,  his  carelessness 
and  his  irregularity,  but  knew,  also,  as  Mr. 
!Mat  was  thoroughly  persuaded,  and  loudly 
declared,  that  poor  Charley  was  utterly  inca- 
pable of  permitting  or  conniving  at  any  fraud, 
either  in  the  matter  of  the  registers  intrust- 
ed to  his  keeping,  or  in  any  other.  Mr. 
Mat  had  a  very  strong  idea  that  the  reg- 
ister, which  would  prove  whether  the  pro- 
pounded extract  from  it  were  truly  and  hon- 
estly made  or  not,  must  still  be  in  existence, 
and  might  be  found,  if  looked  for  with  suffi- 
cient patience  and  perseverance. 

It  thus  cj^me  to  pass  that  Mr.  Falconer, 
senior,  and  Mr.  Matthew  Lindisfarn  were 
journeying  toward  the  remote  little  moor- 
land village  on  the  same  day.  But  they 
were  not  travelling  by  the  same  road,  nor 
exactly  at  the  same  hour. 

Mr.  Mat's  way  lay,  indeed,  through  Sil- 
17 


257 


verton,  and  coincided  with  that  of  tlie  ban- 
ker till  after  he  had  crossed  the  Sill  by  the 
bridge  at  the  town-foot,  and  traversed  most 
of  the  enclosed  country  intervening  between 
the  river  and  the  borders  of  the  moor.  After 
that,  Mr.  Mat,  being  on  horseback,  pursued 
the  same  route  whicli  Dr.  Blakistry  hud  tak- 
en on  a  former  occasion  ;  whereas  the  ban- 
ker in  his  carriage  followed  the  lower  road, 
by  which  Dr.  Lindisfarn  and  Mr.  Sligo  had 
travelled. 

Mr.  Mat  and  the  banker  might  therefore 
have  fallen  in  with  one  another,  had  it  not  been 
that  the  former  started  on  his  journey  at  the 
earlier  hour,  and  had  already  passed  tlirough 
Silverton  when  the  banker  was  still  finishing 
his  breakfast. 

Mr.  Mat  took  his  ride  leisurely,  being 
much  longer  about  it  than  Dr.  Blakistry  had 
been, — not  because  he  was  the  inferior  horse- 
man of  the  two — quite  the  contrary  ;  Mr. 
!Mat  was  in  those  days  one  of  the  best  riders 
in  Sillshire,  and  could  have,  without  diffi- 
culty, found  his  way  across  and  over  obsta- 
cles that  would  have  puzzled  tho  M.  D.  But 
he  rode  leisurely  over  the  moor  because  he 
so  much  enjoyed  his  ride.  It  so  happened, 
that  he  had  never  been  at  Chewton  since  his 
old  crony  Charles  Mellish's  death.  And 
every  mile  of  the  way  waked  up  whole  hosts 
of  long  sleeping  memories  in  Mr.  Mat's  rec- 
ollection. 

The  ten  years  that  run  from  forty-five  to 
fifty-five  in  a  man's  life  are  a  terrible  decade, 
leaving  cruelly  deep  marks  in  their  passage, 
often  accomplishing  the  whole  job  of  turning 
a  young  man  into  an  old  one.  And  these 
were  about  the  years  that  had  passed  over 
Mr.  Mat's  head  since  he  had  last  ridden 
that  well-known  road  from  Silverton  to  Chew- 
ton. 

Not  that  these  years  could  be  said  to  have 
turned  Mr.  Mat  into  an  old  man,  either.  He 
was  of  the  sort  who  make  a  good  and  suc- 
cessful fight  against  the  old  tyrant  with  the 
scythe  and  hour-glass.  His  coal-black,  spi- 
key,  scrubbing-brush  of  a  head  of  hair,  was 
as  thickly  set  and  as  black  as  ever.  His  per- 
fect set  of  regular  white  teeth  were  as  complete 
and  as  brilliant  in  their  whiteness  as  ever.  His 
shrewd  and  twinkling  deep-set  black  eye  was 
as  full  of  fire  and  as  bright  as  it  had  been 
when  last  he  rode  that  way.  And  his  cop- 
per-colored, deeply-seamed,  and  pock-marked 
face  was  not  more  unsightly  than  it  had  ever 


258 

been.  And  Mr.  Mat  always  carried  a  light 
heart  beneath  his  waistcoat,  which  is  as  good 
a  preservative  against  age  as  camphor  is 
against  moth,  as  all  the  world  knows 

So  he  rode  through  the  keen  morning  air 
of  the  moor,  reviewing  his  stock  of  recollec- 
tions athwart  the  mellow  sunshine-tinted 
Claude  glass  which  memory  presents  to  eu- 
peptic easy-going  philosophers  of  this  sort, 
carolling  out  ever  and  anon  some  fragment 
of  a  ditty,  with  all  the  power  of  his  rich  and 
BODOrous  tenor. 

"  There's  many  a  lad  I  knew  is  dead. 

And  many  a  lass  groiivn  old  ! 

And  as  the  lesson  strikes  my  head, 

My  weary  heart  grows  cold  ; ' ' 

he  sung,  as  he  turned  his  horse's  head  out  of 
the  main  road  across  the  moor  into  that 
breakneck  track,  by  which  we  have  seen  Dr. 
Blakistry  pick  his  way.  But  the  stave  was 
carolled  forth  in  a  manner  that  did  not  seem 
to  indicate  a  very  weary  or  cold  heart  in  the 
singer's  bosom  ;  and  ^Ir.  Mat,  as  he  sat  on 
his  well-appointed  steed,  with  his  white  hat 
just  a  little  cocked  on  one  side,  his  whip  un- 
der his  arm,  and  his  hand  stuck  into  the 
pocket  of  his  red  waistcoat,  certainly  did 
not  present  to  the  imagination  the  picture  of 
a  sorrow-stricken  individual. 

A  couple  of  rabbits  ran  across  the  path, 
startled  from  their  dewy  morning  nibble  by 
his  horse's  tread  ;  and  Mr.  ^Mat  broke  off  his 
song  to  honor  them  with  a  view-halloo  that 
made  the  sides  of  a  neighboring  huge  rock — 
a  "  tor,"  in  the  moorland  language — re-echo 
again. 

"  And  when  cold  in  my  coflan,"  he  shouted 
again, — "  when  cold  in  my  coffin —  Ha  ! 
Miss  Lucy  !  mind  what  you  are  about,  lass  ! 
turf  slippery;  is  it  ? — When  cold  in  my  coffin, 
I'll  leave  tliem  to  say,  he's  gone  !  what  a 
hearty  good  fellow  !  " 

"  El — low  !  "  said  the  echo  off  the  gray 
tor  side. 

"  What  a  hearty  good  fellow  !  "  repeated 
Mr.  Mat,  in  a  stentorian  voice,  stimulated 
by  the  echo's  second. 

The  good  resolution  thus  enunciated  seemed , 
however,  to  have  been  uttered  by  Mr.  Mat, 
rather  in  the  character  of  the  late  curate 
than  in  his  own  proper  person  ;  for  he  con- 
tinued soliloquizing  a  train  of  reflections, 
which  that  view  of  the  sentiment  he  had 
been  chanting  inspired  him  with. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"  Yes,  he  was  a  hearty  good  fellow, — poor 
Charley  !  as  good  as  ever  another  in  Sill- 
shire, — not  a  morsel  of  vice  in  him — not  a 
bit !  They  got  hold  of  the  wrong  bit  of 
stuff,  maybe,  to  make  a  parson  out  of.  Poor 
old  Charley  !  He's  gone, — what  a  hearty 
good  fellow  !  How  often  have  I  heard  him 
sing  that.  Well !  well !  Now  he  is  gone. 
And  we  are  all  a-going  ! 

'  And  so  'twill  be,  when  I  am  gone 
Those  evening  bells  will  still  ring  on  ! 
Some  other  bard  will  walk  these  dells  ' — 

^liss  Lucy  !    what  are  you   about, 


Hup 
lass? 


'  And  sing  your  praise,'sweet  evening  Mis.' 
And  I  wonder  whether  another  as  big  a  rogue 
as  that  old  Mallory  will  pull  your  ropes, 
sweet  evening  bells  ?  There's  some  devilry 
of  some  sort  at  the  bottom  of  this  business. 
I  am  sure  of  it, — sure  and  certain  ;  but  it's 
deeper,  I  am  afraid,  than  anything  I  can  get 
to  the  bottom  of." 

And  with  these  thoughts  in  his  head,  Jlr. 
Mat  came  in  sight  of  the  tower  of  Chewton 
Church,  and  in  a  few  minutes  afterwards, 
pulled  up  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Mallory,  the 
clerk, — pulled  up  there  more  because  it  had 
always  been  his  habit  to  do  so  in  old  times, 
when  Charley  Jlellish  lived  in  that  house, 
than  for  any  other  reason  ;  though,  in  fact, 
anything  that  Mr.  Mat  was  come  there  to  do 
could  only  be  done  by  addressing  himself  to 
the  old  clerk.  But  the  fact  was,  that  Mr. 
Mat  did  not  very  well  know  what  he  had 
come  there  to  do.  He  had  yielded,  when  he 
made  up  his  mind  to  ride  over,  to  a  sort  of 
vague  and  restless  desire  to  do  something,  a 
conviction  that  all  was  not  right,  and  a  sort 
of  feeling  that  it  might  be  possible  to  find 
out  something  if  one  were  on  the  spot. 

It  was  about  eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon 
when  Mr.  Mat  reached  Chewton,  and  hung 
Miss  Lucy's  rein  on  the  rail  in  front  of  Mr. 
Mallory's  door.  He  knocked  at  the  door 
with  the  handle  of  his  whip  ;  and  it  was  in- 
stantly opened  to  him  by  the  old  man  him- 
self. 

'  Mr.  Matthew  Lindisfarn  !  why  " — 
'  What  has  brought  me  here  ?  you  were 
going  to  say,  Mr.  Mallory ;  after  staying 
away  ten  years  or  more  !  Well  !  a  little  of 
remembrance  of  the  old  times,  and  a  little 
of  interest  about  these  new  times.  That's 
about  it,  eh  ?  " 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"  The  old  times  and  the  new  times  are 
pretty  much  alike,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  Mr. 
Mat.  A  little  more  rheumatism,  a  little  more 
weariness  when  one  goes  to  bed,  and  a  little 
more  stiffness  when  one  gets  up  in  the  morn 
ing  ;  that's  the  most  of  the  difference  that  I 
can  see." 

"  Well  !  there  is  no  jolly,  good-humored 
smiling  fiice  looking  out  of  that  window  over 
the  door  up  there,  where  poor  old  Charley's 
face  used  to  be,  when  I  rode  over,  three  or 
four  hours  earlier  than  'tis  now,  mayhap, 
and  he  would  welcome  me  with, '  Chanticleer 
proclaims  the  morn  !  '  Does  that  make  no 
difference  between  the  old  times  and  the 
new  ? ' ' 

"  You  don't  seem  much  changed,  Mr.  Mat, 
anyway,"  returned  the  old  man,  looking 
at  his  visitor  with  a  queer  sort  of  interest 
and  curiosity ;  "  you  are  pretty  much  as  you 
were,  I  think,  coat  and  waistcoat  and  all !  " 

"  Pretty  much  ;  and  I  don't  see  that  ten 
years  have  made  any  great  improvement  in 
you,  Mr.  Mallory.  I  don't  see  a  mite  of 
difference,  to  tell  the  truth." 

"  I  don't  know  that  there  is  much,  Mr. 
Mat,  barring  what  I  told  you  just  now," 
said  the  old  man. 

"  And  I  don't  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Mat, 
shutting  one  bright  black  eye,  and  putting  his 
bead  on  one  side  with  an  air  of  curious  specu- 
lation, as  he  eyed  the  tall, grave  old  man  with 
the  other, — "  1  don't  suppose,  Mr.  Mallory, 
that  these  ten  years  have  made  either  of  us 
a  bit  the  better  or  the  wiser.  I  can't  say 
that  I  am  aware  of  their  having  had  any  such 
effect  on  me,  for  my  part." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Matthew,  I  should  be  sorry 
to  think  that,  for  my  part.  But  then  I'm 
nearer  the  great  account,  you  know,"  said 
the  clerk,  with  a  touch  of  official  sanctimo- 
niousness. 

"  So  that  it  is  about  time  to  think  of  mak- 
ing up  the  books,  eh,  Mr.  Mallory?  Well, 
that's  true.  But,  bless  your  heart,  there's 
no  counting  in  that  way.  Think  of  that  poor 
young  fellow  lost  at  sea  the  other  day, — my 
cousin — a  far-away  cousin,  but  still  my  cou- 
sin, Mr.  Mallory — and  your  son-in-law,  as  I 
understand,  Mr.  Mallory.  Think  of  him  !  " 
said  Mr.  Mat,  thus  suddenly  bringing  round 
the  conversation  to  the  topic  which  was  up- 
permost in  his  mind,  by  a  bold  stroke  of  rhet- 
oric, which  he  flattered  himself  would  not 
have  disgraced  the  leader  of  tlie  western  cir- 


259 

cuit,"  there  was  a  sudden  calling  to  account, 
Mr.  Mallory." 

"  Ay,  indeed,  Mr.  Matthew,"  said  the  old 
clerk,  leisurely,  folding  his  hands  in  front  of 
his  waistcoat,  and  twirling  his  thumbs  plac- 
idly as  he  stood  in  front  of  his  visitor,  in 
the  middle  of  the  flagged  floor  of  his  large 
kitchen  and  entrance  hall ;  for  the  two  had  by 
this  time  entered  the  house ;  but  tlie  old  man 
had  not  invited  his  self-bidden  guest  to  be 
seated, — "  ay,  indeed,  Mr.  Matthew,  and 
it's  what  they  are  specially  liable  to,  '  who 
go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,  and  occupy  their 
business  in  the  great  waters.'  " 

"  Such  queer  business,  too,  by  all  ac- 
counts," said  Mr.  Mat. 

"  Indeed,  I  am  not  much  in  the  way  of 
hearing  reports  here,"  rejoined  Mr.  Mallory, 
indifferently. 

"  Very  true,  Mr.  Mallory  ;  out  in  the  moor 
here,  you  know.  But  be  all  that  how  it 
may,  it  is  necessary  now  to  see  that  the  rights 
of  the  child — your  grandson,  Mr.  Mallory, 
and  my  far-away  cousin — are  properly  settled. 
That  is  the  feeling  of  all  the  family  ;  and 
perhaps  it  is  all  for  the  best  that  there  should 
be  a  male  heir  for  the  old  place  and  the  old 
name,"  said  Mr.  Mat,  whom  nobody,  and 
least  of  all  himself,  would  ever  have  supposed 
to  have  so  much  Jesuitry  in  him. 

"  Of  course  Mr.  Oliver  Lindisfarn,  and  the 
doctor,  my  honored  master,  can  only  wish 
that  right  should  be  done.  Queer  enough 
that  the  child  should  have  the  rector  and  the 
clerk  of  Chewton  for  his  two  grandfathers, 
is  it  not,  Mr.  Matthew"?  I  suppose  the  set- 
tlement of  the  question  don't  make  much 
more  difference  to  either  of  them  than  it 
does  to  the  other  !  I  have  had  all  the  sorrow 
of  the  business ;  and  I  sha'n't  have  any  of 
the  advantage —  No,  not  all  the  sorrow, 
either  ;  for  Dr.  Lindisfarn  had  his  share  too, 
no  doubt ;  and  he  will  get  as  little  good  from 
it  as  I  shall." 

"  Of  coui'se,  of  course,  Mr.  Mallory;  and 
all  you  can  wish  is  what  all  the  parties  con- 
cerned wish  in  the  matter, — that  the  right 
thing  should  be  done." 

"  I  can  safely  say,  Mr.  Matthew,  that  that 
is  my  feeling.  But  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I 
feared,  from  what  I  have  heard  my  son  say, — 
the  lawyer  at  Sillmouth,  Mr.  Matthew, — that 
the  family  would  make  some  attempt  to  dis- 
pute the  boy's  title,  "  said  the  old  man,  look- 
ing keenly  at  Mr.  Mat. 


260 

"  1  am  sure  the  squire  at  the  Chase  has 
no  wish  to  dispute  anything  that  is  not  fairly 
disputable,"  rejoined  Mr.  Mat ;  "  but  as  far 
as  I  can  understand,  there  arises  some  doubt 
and  diCBculty  about  a  missing  register.  If 
that  could  be  found,  I  fancy  it  would  make 
the  thing  all  clear  and  plain." 

"  No  doubt,  Mr.  Matthew,  no  doubt.  But 
how  to  find  it?  that  is  the  question.  You 
knew  poor  Mr.  Mellish,  nobody  better  ;  and 
you  knew  his  ways.  Like  enough  to  have 
made  the  old  register  into  gun  wadding,  for 
want  of  better,"  said  the  clerk. 

"No!"  said  Mr.  Mat,  shaking  his  head 
very  decisively, — "  no,  Charley  would  never 
have  done  that.  He  would  never  have  done 
anything  that  could  bring  no  end  of  wrong 
and  trouble  to  others." 

"  But  you  know,  Mr.  Matthew,  that  half 
his  time  he  did  not  know  what  he  was  do- 
ing," said  the  clerk,  with  a  sad  and  re- 
proachful shake  of  the  head. 

"  No,  not  so  bad  as  that!  Come,  come, 
Mr.  Mallory,  don't  stick  it  on  to  him  worse 
than  it  was,  poor  fellow.  I  have  seen  him 
with  a  drop  or  two  too  much  now  and  again 
towards  the  small  hours.  But  not  in  the 
morning  ;  not  when  there  could  ever  have 
been  any  question  about  gun-wadding.  No, 
no  !  Charley  never  made  away  with  the 
book  in  any  fashion,  I'll  lay  my  life!  It 
must  have  been  in  existence  somewhere  or 
other  when  he  died  ;  and  if  it  could  be  found, 
it  would  make  this  child's  rights  aa  clear  as 
day,  and  spare  all  further  trouble  about  it." 

It  was  now  old  Mallory "s  turn  to  scrutinize 
his  companion,  which  he  did  to  much  better 
purpose  than  simple  Mr.  ^lat  had  done,  ob- 
serving his  features  furtively  and  keenly  out 
of  the  corner  of  his  eye,  with  a  shrewdness 
calculated  to  detect  an  arriere  pensec  in  a 
deeper  dissembler  than  Mr.  Mat. 

"  At  all  events,"  he  said,  "  it  is  exceed- 
ingly vexatious  that  the  register  cannot  be 
found.  I  have  done  my  utmost  long  ago,  as 
well  as  recently,  to  find  it.  And  I  shall  be 
very  much  surprised  if  anybody  else  ever 
finds  it  now." 

"  Have  you  any  objection  to  let  me  go  up- 
stairs into  the  rooms  he  used  to  inhabit  ?  I 
should  like  to  see  the  old  place  again  for  '  auld 
lang  sync  '  sake.  You  know,  Mallory,  how 
many  a  jolly  night  I  have  passed  in  those 
rooms  in  old  times." 

"Ay,   Mr.  Matthew!  it  were  better  if  I 


LINDISFARN.    CHASE. 


had  not  any  such  to  remember.  They  were 
sad  doings  ;  no  credit  to  the  house,  nor  to  the 
parish,  for  that  matter!  "  said  the  old  clerk, 
casting  up  his  eyes  in  pious  reprobation. 

"  I  am  sure  the  next  parish  was  never  any 
the  wiser  for  that  matter.  It  must  have 
been  a  roystering  rouse  with  a  vengeance, 
that  the  silence  of  Sillmoor  could  not  swallow 
up  and  tell  no  tales  of !  And  as  for  the  peo- 
ple here,  you  know  whether  they  loved  poor 
Charley,  or  were  likely  to  think  much  ill  of 
him,  poor  fellow,  with  all  his  faults.  May 
I  go  up  and  have  a  look  at  the  old  rooms?  " 

"Yes,  Mr.  Matthew,  I  have  no  objection 
whatever.  You  can  go  up-stairs  if  you  wish 
it.  I  will  wait  on  you.  But  the  room  has 
been  used  since  Mr.  Mellish  lived  in  it." 

"  Both  the  rooms  he  occupied  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Mat. 

"No,  not  both  of  them.  The  sitting-room 
has  been  occupied  since  by  my  daughter  when 
she  was  here.  But  the  room  beyond,  the 
bedroom,  where  he  died,  has  never  been  used 
since.  We  have  more  space  in  the  house 
than  we  need." 

So  they  both  went  up-stairs  ;  and  Mr.  Mat, 
under  cover  of  indulging  in  the  reminitcences 
of  his  dead-and-gone  jollifications,  cast  his 
eyes  sharply  about  him  to  see  if  he  could  get 
any  hint  of  a  hiding-place  or  repository  in 
which  it  might  be  possible  to  suppose  that  the 
missing  register  might  have  been  hidden  and 
lost.  In  the  room  which  had  been  the  cu- 
rate's sitting-room,  no  trace  of  his  occupa- 
tion remained.  It  had  very  evidently  long 
since  passed  under  feminine  dominion,  and 
had  been,  it  may  be  hoped,  purified,  during  the 
reign  of  the  moorland  wild-flower,  from  all 
odor  of  the  naughty  doings  witnessed  in  that 
former  phase  of  its  existence.  It  was  not  so, 
however,  in  the  inner  room,  in  which  the  poor 
curate  had  slept,  and  had  died.  There  every- 
thing had  remained  to  all  appearance  exactly 
as  he  had  left  it.  On  a  nail  in  the  white- 
washed wall  by  the  side  of  the  old  bed- 
stead, just  in  the  place  where  Roman  Cath- 
olic devotion  is  wont  to  suspend  a  little  vase 
of  holy  water,  still  hung  the  Protestant  cu- 
rate's dog-whip.  On  the  wall  oppoeite  to 
the  bed,  and  at  right  angles  to  tlie  window, 
was  scrawled  in  charcoal  on  the  white  sur- 
face a  colossal  music  score,  with  a  number 
of  notes  rudely  but  very  clearly,  legibly,  and 
correctly  placed  on  the  lines  of  it.  The  main 
direction  in  which  noor  Mellish's  efforts  at 


LINDISFARN    CHASE.  261 

diecharginp;  li is  duty  in  the  matter  of  instruct- I  have  one  more  look  at    the  famous  inscrip- 

ing  his  parishioners  had  developed  themselves, 

•was  in  attempting  to  get  up  a  choir,  and  to 

teach  a  class  of  the  boys  to  sing.     And  this 

bedroom  had  been  the  poor  fellovr's  school- 

rojm,  and  the  huge  score  and  notes  on  the 

wall  his  lecture-board. 

Poor  melodious  Charley  !  He  was  willing 
to  teach  what  he  best  knew  ;  and  whether 
Sternhold  and  Hopkins  supplied  all  the  exem- 
plars commended  to  the  voices  of  the  ingenu- 
ous moorland  youth,  it  were  invidious  too 
closely  to  inquire. 

On  another  side  of  the  room  was  a  large 
worm-eaten  chest,  on  which  Mr.  Mat's  eye 
fell  immediately.  He  lifted  the  creaking  lid 
eagerly  ;  but  there  was  nothing  but  dust  and 
one  old  rusty  spur  in  a  corner  inside.  And  a 
smile  passed  over  the  face  of  Mr.  Mallory  as 
he  let  the  lid  and  the  corners  of  his  own 
mouth  fall  at  the  same  time. 

There  was  no  other  shade  of  a  possibility 
that  the  missing  volume  might  be  found  in 
the  curate's    bed-chamber :    and    Mr.   ]Mat 


tion,  sir  ;  is  that  it?  " 

"  That  is  what  I  wish,  Mr.  Mallory  ;  if 
you  will  be  so  obliging  as  to  afford  me  the 
opportunity  of  doing  so." 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Falconer.  I  know 
nothing  about  the  inscription,  and  I  am  not 
turned  any  ologist  of  any  sort,  that  I  know 
of.  But  you  might  guess  what  brings  me 
here.  I  wanted  to  have  a  look  with  my  own 
eyes  after  this  plaguey  register.  You  know 
all  about  it,  no  doubt.  All  Sillshire  knows 
it  by  this  time." 

"  Ay,  ay,  I  understand;  a  bad  business, 
Mr.  Mat,  a  bad  business  !  Truly  grievous  ! 
But  my  little  matter  is  a  question  of  some 
interest  between  Dr.  Lindisfarn  and  myself 
and  some  others,  walkers  in  the  paths  of  hoar 
antiquity,  Mr.  Mat." 

"  What,  all  across  the  moor  here  away?  " 
said  Mr.  Mat,  with  a  puzzled  air. 

"  Yes,  indeed.  These  pleasant  paths  have 
led  us  on  this  occasion  all  across  the  moor  out 
to  Chewton.  And  now  if  you  like  to  step 
turned  with  a  sigh — quite  as  much  given  to  |  across  to  the  church,  and  if  Mr.  Mallory  will 


the  memory  of  his  old  friend  as  to  the  failure 
of  his  present  hopes — to  follow  Mr.  Mallory 
down  the  stairs,  when,  just  as  they  reached 
the  stairfoot,  the  unusual  sound  of  carriage- 
wheels  was  beard  outside  Mr.  Mallory's 
door. 

"  I  suppose  it  must  be  that  lawyer  come 
back  again,"  said  the  old  clerk.  "  He  was 
here  the  other  day,  wanting  to  find  this  same 
«nlucky  register,  and  he  seemed  for  all  the 
world  to  fancy  that  I  could  tell  him  where  it 
is.  As  if  I  would  not  find  it  if  I  could  !  I 
know  as  well  as  he  does — better  for  that 
matter — that  it  would  set  all  right.  1  am 
glad  that  you  should  happen  to  be  here,  Mr. 
Matthew,  when  he  pays  us  his  visit ;  be  may 
look  where  he  likes,  for  me." 

So  saying  the  old  man  went  to  the  door, 
and  there  found,  instead  of  the  lawyer  he 
expected,  Mr.  Falconer,  senior,  all  smiles 
and  bland  courtesy. 

"  Mr.  Mallory,  your  servant.  I  dare  say 
you  can  guess  my  eri-and  ;  and —  But  whom 
have  we  here?  Mr.  Mat,  I  declare!  Dear 
me  !  "Why,  Mr.  Mat,  are  you  going  to  enter 
the  lists  with  us  ?  Have  you  turned  ecclesi- 
ologist  ?     Have  you  visited  the  church,  eh  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  no  !  we  have  not  been  near  the 
church.  Mr.  ^Matthew  Lindisfarn  was  here 
upon  another  matter.     What,  you  want  to 


be  so  obliging  as  to  accompany  us  with  the 
keys,  I  shall  have  pleasure  in  showing  you 
the  famous  inscription,  which  is  puzzling  us 
all ;  and  who  knows  but  you  may  hit  upon 
some  suggestion  that  may  help  us?  "  added 
the  old  gentleman,  patronizingly. 

"  With  all  my  heart,  Mr.  Falconer.  I 
used  to  know  the  church  well  enough  at  one 
time,  years  ago.  Will  you  open  it  for  us, 
Mr.  Mallory?"  said  Mr.  Mat. 

"  I  must  be  going  to  the  church  myself  in 
a  minute  or  two,  gentlemen,"  said  the  clerk; 
"  for  it  is  time  to  ring  the  noontide  bell. 
The  sexton  is  a  laboring  man  away  at  his 
work;  so  1  always  ring  the  bell  at  midday." 

"Ah,  yes!  I  remember  it,"  said  Mr. 
Mat ;  "  there  always  used  to  be  noontide  bell 
at  Chewton.  So  you  keep  up  that  old  fash- 
ion still,  eh,  Mr.  Mallory  ?  " 

"  Dr.  Lindisfarn  would  not  have  it  dropped 
on  any  account,  sir  ;  and  indeed  you  might 
say  the  same  almost  of  a  many  of  the  older 
parishioners.  They  hold  to  the  noontide  bell 
very  much  about  here.  There  always  has 
been  a  noontide  bell  at  Chewton-in-the-Moor, 
time  out  of  mind." 

Thus  talking  the  clerk  and  bis  two  visitors 
strolled  leisurely  across  the  village  street,  and 
along  the  churchyard  wall  to  the  old-fash- 
ioned stile  over  it,  formed  of  huge  slabs  of 


262 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


stone  from  the  moor, — that  stile  on  which  Dr. 
Blakistry  had  found  little  July  Lindisfarn — 
or  July  Mallory,  as  the  case  might  be — sit- 
ting and  speculating  on  rashers  in  the  coming 
time.  July  was  there  no  longer,  having  been 
removed,  with  his  mother,  to  Mr.  Jared  ^lal- 
lory's  house  at  Sillmouth. 

The  clerk  opened  the  church,  and  admit- 
ting the  two  gentlemen  into  the  body  of  the 
building,  betook  himself  to  the  belfry,  to 
perform  his  daily  duty. 

"This  is  indeed  a  fortunate  chance,  my 
dear  sir,"  whispered  Falconer  to  Mr.  Mat, 
as  soon  ae  they  were  left  alone,  "  an  oppor- 
tunity I  have  never  enjoyed  before.  At  my 
former  visits  hei'e  I  have  never  been  able  to 
examine  the  curious  relic  of  which  I  spoke 
to  you  except  under  the  eyes  of  the  man  who 
has  just  left  us — a  creature  of  the  doctor's, 
of  course — worthy,  excellent,  good  man.  Dr. 
Lindisfarn,  I  am  sure.  I  have  the  utmost 
regard  for  him.  But  crotchety,  my  dear  Mr. 
Mat, — I  do  not  mind  saying  it  to  you, — de- 
cidedly crotchety  upon  some  points  ;  erudite, 
but  de-ci-ded-ly  crotchety.  Now  in  the  mat- 
ter of  this  inscription  our  dear  doctor  has 
formed  a  certairi  theory, — it  is  not  for  me  to 
say  whether  tenable  or  not,  at  least,  not  here 
nor  now,"  said  the  banker,  with  a  meaning 
look  at  his  companion,  which,  however,  was 
meaningless  for  Mr.  Mat, — "a  certain  the 
ory,"  continued  the  banker,  "which  might 
most  judiciously  be  tested  by  the  removal  of  a 
small  portion  of  the  coating  of  plaster  which 
covers  the  ancient  woodwork.  But  this  I 
have  never  been  able  to  attempt,  as  you  will 
understand,  in  that  man  Mallory's  presence. 
Even  if  he  had  allowed  me  to  do  so,  which  I 
do  not  think,  any  discovery  which  I  could 
make  would  have  been  immediately  com- 
municated to  the  doctor,  you  see  ;  and  in 
these  matters  one  wishes,  you  know — natu- 
rally— you  understand ' ' — 

Mr.  Mat  understood  nothing  at  all.  But 
he  very  docilely  followed  the  lead  of  the  old 
banker,  who,  as  he  spoke  the  last  words,  had 
brought  him  into  the  corridor  leading  to  the 
vestry,  and  stopped  short  in  front  of  the 
partially  discovered  panel  which  appeared 
to  be  let  into  the  wall  under  the  low  orna- 
mented arch,  in  the  manner  which  has  been 
previously  described.  There,  unquestionably 
enough,  were  to  be  seen  the  mysterious  sylla- 
bles, on  which  all  the  senior  canon's  super- 
etructure  of  learned  dissertation  and  con- 


jecture was  founded:  "'jtaxti  .  .  .  vi  .  .  . 
TANTi  .  .  .  VI  .  .  .  TANTi "  And  both 
above  and  below  them  were  the  half-oblit- 
erated remains  of  figures  or  painted  symbols 
of  some  sort,  which  really  looked  more  like 
hieroglyphics  than  anything  else. 

"  There,  sir,  is  the  celebrated  Chewton  in- 
scription," said  Mr.  Falconer,  "and  I  am 
bound  to  admit  that  I  do  not  think  there  can 
be  any  doubt  or  discrepance  of  opinion  on  the 
reading  of  the  letters.  They  read  most  un- 
deniably '  TANTI  VI  TANTI  VI   TANTI  ;  '  but  the 

doctor  has  never  adverted  to  the  probability 
that  the  letters  '??.?,'  thus  singularly  re- 
peated, and  especially  found  thus  in  con- 
junction with  the  adjective  '  tanti,''  which 
signifies,  my  dear  Mr.  Mat,  '  so  many,' — 
'  so  many,'  "  repeated  the  banker,  holding  up 
his  fore-finger  in  a  manner  intended  to  de- 
mand imperatively  a  strong  effort  of  ^Ir.  Mat's 
mind  for  the  due  comprehension  of  that  im- 
portant point, — "  the  very  great  probability, 
I  say,  that  these  letters  '  t?,  T  may  be  sim- 
ply Roman  numerals." 

All  the  while  the  learned  banker  was  set- 
ting forth  his  opposition  theory  in  this  man- 
ner, ]\Ir.  ]Mat  was  observing  the  panel  in 
question  more  narrowly  and  with  a  greater 
appearance  of  interest  than  could  have  been 
reasonably  expected  from  a  man  of  his  tastes 
and  habits.  Stooping  down  with  his  hands 
resting  upon  his  knees,  so  as  to  bring  his  face 
nearly  to  a  level  with  the  letters,  he  stared 
at  them,  while  a  close  observer  might  have 
marked  a  gradually  intensified  gleam  of  in-» 
tcUigence  first  glimmer  in  his  e3'es,  then 
mantle  on  his  humorous  puckered  lips,  and 
lastly  illumine  in  its  completion  his  entire 
visage. 

"  Now  what  I  wish,"  continued  Mr.  Fal- 
coner, "  and  what  I  propose  doing,  with 
your  kind  aid,  Mr.  Mat,  now  that  the  clerk's 
absence  has  given  us  the  opportunity,  is  just 
to  rub,  or  scrape  off  a  little — just  a  Icctle — 
of  the  whitewash  here,  to  see  if  we  can  dis- 
cover any  further  traces.  Don't  you  think 
we  might  manage  it,  Mr.  Mat?  "  said  Mr. 
Falconer,  coaxingly. 

"  All  the  world  says  you  are  a  very  learned 
man,  Mr.  Falconer,  and  the  doctor  another  ; 
and  learning  is  a  very  fine  thing.  But  what 
would  you  and  the  doctor  and  all  the  rest  of 
the  big-wigs  say,  if  1  was  to  tell  you,  with- 
out any  rubbing  off  of  whitewash  at  all,  what 
comes  next  after  the  words  you  see  there?  " 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


263 


said  Mr.  Mat,  putting  both  his  hands  in  his 
waistcoat-pockets,  balancing  himself  on  the 
heels  of  his  boots,  and  looking  at  the  banker 
with  merry-twinkling,  half-closed  eyes,  and 
his  head  thrown  back. 

"Say  Mr.  Mat?"  replied  Falconer,  ap- 
parently ((iiite  taken  aback  with  astonish- 
ment,— "say? — why,  sir,  I  should  say  that 
any  such  statement  was  worth  just  nothing 
at  all  without  verification.  For  my  own  part, 
I  frankly  admit  that  I  do  not  pei-ceive,  nor 
indeed  can  imagine,  the  possibility  of  a  con- 
jecture " — 

"  Well,  look  ye  here,  Mr.  Falconer,  my 
conjecture  is  this  :  I  am  of  opinion  that  the 
next  letters  after  those  where  the  whitewash 
has  been  rubbed  off  will  be  found  to  be  v,  i, 
over  agnin,  and  then  t,  h,  i,  s;  now  if  that 
turns  out  to  be  right  when  we  rub  off  the 
whitewash,  I  think  you  ought  to  make  me 
president  of  the  antiquarian  society,  or  the 
devil  is  in  it." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Falconer,  becoming 
very  red  in  the  face,  and  more  distant  in  his 
manner,  from  annoyance  and  astonishment, 
and  finding  himself,  as  it  were,  shoved  aside 
from  his  place  of  learned  superiority, — "  my 
dear  sir,  I  must  confess  I  do  not  understand 
you  ;  I  know  not  what  notion  you  have  taken 
into  your  head  ;  I  must  protest  " — 

"  Well,  Mr.  Falconer,  I  have  told  you  what 
the  nest  letters  will  be  found  to  be.  Now 
we'll  proceed  to  verify,  as  you  say." 

And  Mr.  INIat  as  he  spoke,  drew  out  from 
his  pocket  one  of  those  huge  pluralist  pocket- 
knives, — a  whole  tool-bos  of  instruments  in 
itself, — which  such  men  as  Mr.  Mat  love  to 
carry  about  with  them  ;  and  having  pulled  out 
from  some  corner  of  its  all-accommodating 
handle  a  large  wide-bladed  hack-knife,  pro- 
ceeded with  no  light  or  delicate  hand  to 
scrape  away  a  further  portion  of  the  coating 
of  whitewash  which  covered  the  board. 

Falconer  looked  on,  aghast  with  dismay 
and  horror. 

"  ^Mr.  Mat,  Mr.  Mat !  Good  Heavens  ! 
what  are  you  about?  What  will  the  doctor 
say  ?  Gently,  gently,  at  all  events  ;  or  you 
will  destroy  whatever  remains  of  antiquity 
time  may  have  spared." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Mat,  scrap- 
ing away  vigorously  ;  "  there  !  now,  sir,  look 
and  see  if  I  was  a  true  prophet.  There  they 
are!     There  are  the  letters  I  told  you  we 


should  find, — '  v,i;  t,  h,i,s;^ — plain  enough  ; 
aint  they?  " 

Mr.  Falconer  put  on  his  gold  eyeglasses, 
and  peered  closely  at  the  place  where  Mr. 
Mat  had  laid  the  wood  bare.  lie  read  the 
letters,  as  deciphered  by  Mr.  Mat,  without 
any  difficulty. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  he  said,  tremulously,  while 
his  hands  before  and  his  pigtail  behind  be- 
gan to  shake  in  unison  with  the  excess  of 
his  perplesity  and  astonishment,  "  I  confess 
I  do  not  understand  it, — I  am  at  a  loss, — I 
wash  my  hands  of  the  matter.  You  must 
account  for  what  you  have  done  to  the  doc- 
tor ;  I  fear  he  will  be  greatly  displeased,  I — 
I — retire  baffled  ! — I  can  offer  no  conjecture — 
ahem  !  ' ' 

"  Oh,  I'll  be  accountable  to  the  doctor! 
Why,  I  thought  that  he  was  worriting  his 
life  out  to  find  out  what  this  writing  meant. 
I  thought  that  was  what  you  all  of  you  want- 
ed?" cried  Mr.  Mat.  "  But  Fll  tell  you 
what  it  is,  Mr.  Falconer,"  he  continued,  se- 
lecting, as  he  spoke,  another  instrument  from 
his  pocket  arsenal,  "  I  mean  to  verify  this 
a  little  more.  I  am  going  to  have  that  board 
out,  inscription  and  all.  Why,  it's  an  old 
acquaintance  of  mine,  Mr.  Falconer,  the  old 
board,  and  the  inscription,  as  you  call  it, 
and  the  whole  concern.  Bless  your  heart,  I 
know  all  about  it !  What  do  you  say  to 
this  now,  byway  of  a  learned  csplanation  ?  " 
And  with  a  very  reprehensible  forgetfulness 
of  the  sacred  character  of  the  building  in 
which  they  were  standing,  and  throwing 
himself  into  an  attitude  meant  to  be  in 
accordance  with  his  words,  Mr.  Mat  made 
the  groined  roof  of  the  fine  old  church  ring 
again  with  the  well-known  old  burthen, 
"  Tantivy,  tantivy,  tantivy  !  This  day  a 
stag  must  die  !  " 

"Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha!  "  he  laughed  uproar- 
iously ;  "  to  think  of  poor  Charley's  music- 
score  coming  to  make  such  a  piece  of  work  ; 
ha,  ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

"  That  is  all  very  well,  Mr.  Mat,"  said  Fal- 
coner, seizing,  with  a  transient  gleam  of 
hope,  on  a  point  which  seemed  to  afford  the 
means  of  hitching  a  difficulty  on  to  Mr.  Mat's 
explanatipn  of  the  celebrated  Chewton  in- 
scriptiori ;  "  but  you  will  do  me  the  favor  to 
observe  that  the  cabalistic  word  taken  from 
the  art  of  venerie  which  you  have  cited, 
'  tantivy,'  must  be  held  to  be  written  as  pro- 


264 

nounecd ,  with  a  y  at  tlie  end  ;  whereas  the  let- 
ters painted  on  tliat  panel  are  z',  j." 

"  Tell  ye,  Mr.  Falconer,  I  saw  him  paint  it 
— helped  him  to. do  it.  Fact  was,  the  parish 
boys  used  to  puzzle  themselves  with  the  y  at 
the  end  ;  so  he  wrote  it  i,  comes  to  the  same 
thing,  you  know.  Poor  Charley  was  always 
wanting  to  teach  a  lot  of  the  parish  boys  to 
sing, —  all  he  did  teach  'em,  or  could  teach 
'em,  I  suppose,  for  the  matter  of  that.  Eut 
singing  he  did  understand,  pcbody  better. 
Poor  fellow  !  many's  the  glee  he  and  I  have 
made  two  at.  Well,  his  plan  was  to  paint  a 
few  bars  of  some  easy  song  or  other,  with  the 
words, — there,  you  can  see  the  notes  plain 
enough  ! — and  paint  it  all  so  big  that  the 
whole  of  his  class  could  read  it  at  once. 
That  was  what  this  board  was  for.  If  you 
will  go  up  into  the  room  in  old  Mallory's 
house,  where  poor  Charley  used  to  live,  you 
may  see  just  such  another  bit  of  music  done 
on  the  wall  with  charcoal.  I  was  up  there 
just  now,  before  you  arrived,  and  there  is  the 
poor  fellow's  handiwork  on  the  wall  pretty 
nearly  as  fresh  as  ever.  Yes,  there  it  is,  mu- 
sic and  all,  plain  enough,"  continued  Mr. 
Mat,  who  had,  all  the  time  he  was  talking, 
been  vigorously  working  away  at  the  board, 
and  had  at  last  succeeded  in  wrenching  it 
away  from  the  wall, — "  there  is  poor  Charley's 
class-board,  '  Tantivy,  tantivy,  tantivy,  this 
day  a  stag  must  die  !  '  Now,  Mr.  Falconer, 
don't  I  deserve  to  be  made  perpetual  presi- 
dent of  the  learned  Society  of  Antiquaries  of 
Silver  ton,  eh  ?  What  do  you  say  to  the  ver- 
ification now,  Mr.  Falconer?  " 

"  It  is  truly  a  very  extraordinary  explana- 
tion of  the  mystery, — very  unexpected  and 
extraordinary  indeed.  Nevertheless,  Mr. 
Mat,  I  am  sure  that  you  will  forgive  me,  if 
I  declare  myself  to  be  speaking  strictly  un- 
der reserve,  and  refrain  from  pronouncing  at 
present  any  definitive  opinion.  I  fear,  as  1  be- 
fore observed,  that  the  doctor,  who  is  rector 
of  this  church,  you  must  remember,  Mr.  Mat, 
will  be  very  seriously  displeased  at  the — the 
somewhat  precipitous  and  violent  steps  which 
have  been  taken  for  " — 

"  For  the  discovery  of  his  favorite  mare's 
nest,  eh?  Well,  I  must  take  the  blame  of 
that.  But  now,  Mr.  Falconer,"  continued 
Mr.  Mat,  changing  his  manner  entirely,  and 
speaking  very  seriously,  "  I'll  tell  you  what 
it  is  !  I've  got  a  marc's  nest  here  as  well  as 
the  doctor.     I  did  not  wrench  that  board 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


out  of  its  place  only  to  show  you  what  it 
was.  I  knew  the  old  board  that  ray  own 
hands  had  helped  to  paint  well  enough,  di- 
rectly I  saw  it.  But  something  else  came 
into  my  head  at  the  same  time.  You  have 
heard  all  about  the  missing  register,  and  how 
much  may  depend  on  the  finding  of  it !  Well, 
now  I  remember  how  this  place  in  the  wall 
used  to  be  before  ]Mcllish  had  the  board  put 
up  there.  There  was  a  space  under  this 
stone  arch  here,  as  you  may  see  now,  and  at 
the  bottom  of  it  a  stone  trough  like  a  small 
conduit.  Well,  when  Charley  had  done  with 
the  old  board,  and  the  boys  had  got  pretty 
perfect  in  '  This  day  a  stag  must  die,'  he 
scrawled  that  other  lesson  on  the  wall,  as  I 
was  telling  you  just  now,  and  I  never  knew 
nor  cared  what  had  become  of  the  board ; 
for  though  I  was  often  over  here  in  those 
days,  my  visits  were  not  for  the  purpose  of 
going  to  church,  more  shame  for  me.  But  I 
recollect  as  well  as  if  it  was  yesterday,  hear- 
ing Mellish  complain,  time  and  again,  that 
there  was  no  proper  place  in  the  vestry  for  the 
keeping  of  the  register  book.  And  when  I  saw 
the  board  put  up  here  so  as  to  shut  in  a  snug 
pilacc  under  the  old  arch,  and  yet  so  as  to 
leave  an  opening  a-top, — for,  as  you  may  see, 
this  board  did  not  close  up  the  arch  ;  that  must 
have  been  done  afterward,  and  I  dare  say  our 
old  friend  who  has  just  done  ringing  the 
bell  could  tell  us  the  when,  and  maybe  the 
wherefore, — when  I  observed  all  this,  you  see, 
having  the  matter  of  the  register  more  in  my 
mind  than  the  inscription,  it  came  across  me 
like  a  flash  of  lightning  that  it  was  very  like- 
ly Charley  had  put  the  board  up  here  to  make 
a  place,  and  a  very  snug,  safe  place,  too,  for 
keeping  the  register  in.  It  was  just  like  him, 
always  full  of  contraptions,  and  a  deal  clev- 
erer with  his  hands  than  he  was  with  hia 
head,  poor  fellow." 

Just  as  Mr.  Mat  had  completed  his  expla- 
nation, the  two  violators  of  the  fabric  of  the 
church  were  rejoined  by  the  old  clerk.  And 
a  wrathful  man  was  he,  when  his  first  glance 
showed  him  what  had  been  done.  Perhaps 
there  was  something  more,  besides  anger,  in 
the  pallor  that  came  over  his  rigid  old  face, 
and  the  dilation  of  his  still  fiery,  deep-set  eyes. 

"  What  is  this,  gentlemen?  "  he  said,  in 
a  voice  tremulous  with  passion.  "  Sacrilege  ! 
You  have  committed  sacrilege,  gentlemen, 
and  abused  the  trust  I  placed  in  you,  in  al- 
lowing you  to  remain  in  the  church." 


LINDISFARN 

the 


«'  Mr.  Mallory,  I   protest  " —  began 
banker,  witii  formal  pomposity. 

"  Gentlemen,"  interrupted  the  gaunt  old 
man,  still  sliaking  with  rage,  "  you  must  an- 
swer fur  tliis  outrage  as  best  you  may.  You 
must  bo  accountable  to  the  rector  of  the  par- 
ish— and  to  the  law.  I  must  insist  upon 
your  leaving  the  church  instantly — instant- 
ly !  "  he  reitei'ated,  coming  forward  a  step 
as  he  spoke,  so  as  to  advance  towards  placing 
himself  between  Mr.  Mat  and  the  partially 
disclosed  aperture  which  the  removal  of  the 
board  had  occasioned. 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Mallory,  certainly,"  said 
Mr.- Mat,  taking  a  rapid  stride  forward  as  he 
spoke,  so  as  to  be  beforehand  with  the  old 
man,  and  to  place  himself  close  to  the  spot 
from  which  the  Iward  had  been  taken  ;  "  I 
did  this  job.  Mr.  Falconer  had  no  hand  in 
it  at  all.  I  will  be  answerable  for  it.  But 
before  I  go  I  must  just  see  what  lies  buried 
among  the  rubbish  there  behind  the  board- 
ing, only  for  the  sake  of  antiquarianism,  you 
know." 

And  while  the  words  were  yet  on  his  lips 
he  plunged  his  hand  into  the  trough  of  the 
monk's  old  conduit,  still  hidden  behind  a 
second  board,  which  had  been  placed  below 
the  old  music-score,  and  in  the  next  minute 
drew  it  forth  with  a  small  vellum-bound  vol- 
ume in  it. 

Holding  his  prize  aloft  with  one  hand,  Mr. 
Mat  put  the  thumb  of  the  other  to  hia  ear, 
and  uttered  a  view-halloa  which  might  have 
waked  the  ancient  monks  from  their  tercen- 
tenary slumber. 

Mr.  Falconer,  not  a  little  scandalized,  but 
quite  awake  to  the  possible  importance  of 
the  discovery,  held  up  his  hands,  partly  in 
dismay  and  partly  in  interest. 

Mallory  became  perfectly  livid,  and  trem- 
bled visibly  in  every  limb.  He  strove  with 
might  and  main,  however,  to  speak  with 
stern  calmness,  as  he  said, — 

"  Mr.  Matthew  Lindisfarn,  I  require  you 
to  give  up  that  volume  instantly  to  me.  If 
indeed  it  be  a  register,  I,  in  the  absence  of 
the  rector  and  the  curate,  am  the  legal  and 
proper  guardian  of  it.  Mr.  Falconer,  I  ap- 
peal to  you  !  " 

"  I  wash  my  hands — indeed,  I  have  once 
already  stated  to  Mr.  Matthew  that  I  wash 
my  hands." 

"  And  I  will  wash  mine  when  I  get  back 


CHASE.  265 

to  the  Chase !  "  cried  Mr.  Mat,  still  holding 
high  in  the  air  the  dusty  and  cobweb-man- 
tled volume,  and  making  for  tlie  door  of  the 
churcli. 

Mallory  rushed  forward  to  intercept  him, 
with  an  agility  that  could  not  have  been  ex- 
pected from  his  years,  crying  out, — 

"  Mv.  Lindisfarn,  I  warn  you  !  This  is 
sacrilege  and  felony  ;  felony,  Mr.  Lindisfarn  ! 
Take  care  what  you  are  about.  Mr.  Falco- 
ner, you  are  a  magistrate,  I  call  upon  you." 

"  Good-by,  Mr.  Falconer ;  I'm  off;  no  time 
to  lose — see  you  in  Silverton.  Beg  pardon, 
Mr.  Mallory,  but  this  book  must  go  to  Sil- 
verton, felony  or  no  felony." 

And  so  saying,  he  darted  out  of  the  church- 
door,  and  across  the  street  to  the  rail  where 
he  had  left  Miss  Lucy,  and  was  in  the  sad- 
dle in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 

"  Now,  Miss  Lucy,  old  girl,  put  the  best 
foot  foremost ;  "  and  turning  in  his  saddle 
as  he  started  at  a  gallop,  he  saw  his  two  re- 
cent companions  standing  at  the  church-door, 
staring  after  him  open-mouthed. 

"  Yoicks  !  Yoicks  !  hark  forward  !"  he 
cried,  once  more  flourishing  his  prize  in  the 
air  before  their  eyes,  and  then  carefully  se- 
curing it  within  his  coat,  gave  all  his  atten- 
tion to  guiding  Miss  Lucy  across  the  moor, 
at  what  would  assuredly  have  been  a  break- 
neck pace  to  most  riders. 


CHAPTER   XLIX. 
MR.   SLOWCOME  COMES   OUT  RATHER  STRONG. 

The  flanks  of  INIiss  Lucy  were  streaming 
as  she  stood  at  the  door  of  jNIessrs.  Slowcome 
and  Sligo's  ofiBces  in  the  High  Street,  about 
half-past  one  o'clock  on  that  ]\Ionday  morn- 
ing. Mr.  Mat  had  ridden  the  fifteen  miles 
from  Chewton  in  one  hour  and  a  quarter ; 
but  had  nevertheless  found  time  to  reflect,  as 
he  rode,  that  after  ail  he  did  not  know  what 
the  register  might  prove,  or  whether  it  might 
be  found  to  prove  anything  in  the  matter  of 
the  succession  of  the  Lindisfarn  property. 
He  remembered  with  some  misgiving  that  in 
truth  he  did  not  know  with  any  certainty 
whether  the  dusty  volume  he  had  drawn  from 
its  hiding-place  was  any  parish  register  at  all 
or  no  ;  and  justly  considering  that  it  would 
be  very  desirable  to  ascertain  what  might  be 
the  real  facts  in  these  respects  before  carry- 
ing his  prize  to  the  Chase,  where  probably 
nobody  would  be  able  to  understand  anything 


266 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


of  the  matter,  he  determined  very  judiciously 
to  submit  the  volume  in  the  first  place  to  the 
learned  scrutiny  of  old  Slow. 

Hurriedly  throwing  Miss  Lucy's  rein  to  a 
boy  in  the  street,  who,  like  every  other  boy 
in  the  streets  of  Silver  ton,  knew  both  Mr. 
Mat  and  Miss  Lucy  perfectly  well,  he  rushed 
into  the  open  door,  and  made  straight  for 
that  inner  one  of  glass,  which  gave  immedi- 
ate admittance  to  the  sacred  presence  of  the 
heads  of  the  firm,  quite  regardless  of  the  re- 
monstrances of  the  outraged  Bob  Scott,  who 
in  vain  tried  to  stop  him. 

"Sir,  sir,  Mr.  Mat!"  cried  Bob,  in  his 
capacity  of  Cuberns,  "  they  are  engaged. 
Mr.  Slowcorae  has  people  with  him  on  busi- 
ness, and  Mr.  Sligo  is  with  him  too ;  you 
must  wait,  if  you  please,"  said  the  junior 
clerk,  rushing  out  from  his  den  on  the  left- 
hand  side  of  the  entrance. 

"  Can't  wait ;  who's  with  him?"  said  Mr. 
Mat. 

"Why,  Mr.  Jared  Mallory,  of  Sillmouth !" 
whispered  Bob,  with  an  air  of  much  mys- 
tery. 

"All  right!"  cried  Mr.  Mat,  with  his 
hand  on  the  lock  of  the  glazed  door ;  and  in 
the  nest  instant  he  was  in  the  innermost 
shrine  of  Themis. 

Mr.  Slowcome  was  sitting  in  his  accus- 
tomed chair,  wheeled  round  a  little  from  the 
writing-table,  so  as  to  face  the  Sillmouth  at- 
torney, who  was  seated  opposite  to  him, 
while  Mr.  Sligo  was  standing  dangling  one 
leg  over  the  back  of  a  chair,  on  the  rug  be- 
fore the  fireplace. 

One  would  have  said  to  look  at  the  three 
that  both  Mr.  Slowcome  and  Mr.  Mallory 
were  exceedingly  enjoying  themselves,  and 
that  Mr.  Sligo  was  much  amused  by  watch- 
ing them.  And  in  this  case  Mr.  Slowcome 
and  not  Mr.  Mallory  was  the  hypocrite. 
That  latter  gentleman  was  very  thoroughly 
enjoying  himself,  and  seemed  entirely  to  have 
got  over  that  appearance  of  being  ill  at  ease, 
which  a  consciousness  of  his  unprofessional 
and  out-at-elbow-like  shabbiness  inspired  him 
with  on  his  first  visit  to  the  offices  of  the 
prosperous  Silver  ton  firm.  He  sat  thrown 
back  in  an  easy  attitude  in  his  chair,  with 
one  knee  crossed  over  the  other,  with  one 
hand  in  his  trousers,  while  the  other  was 
caressing  his  chin ;  and  he  was  eying  old 
Slow  with  the  look  of  a  man  who  has  forced 


his  antagonist  into  a  corner,  and  triumph- 
antly watches  his  struggles  to  escape  from 
that  position.  But  old  Slow  afforded  him 
as  little  as  possible  of  this  triumph.  He,  too, 
seemed  perfectly  at  his  ease,  and  at  all  events, 
was  not  hurried  into  speaking  or  moving  one 
jot  beyond  his  normal  speed.  Mr.  Sligo  was 
biting  his  nails,  and  looked  like  a  terrier 
watching  for  the  moment  when  a  baited 
badger  might  give  him  an  opportunity  for 
dashing  in  upon  him. 

"How  do,  Slowcome?"  cried  Mr.  Mat, 
nodding  to  Mr.  Sligo.  "  Who  is  this  gentle- 
man?" he  continued,  staring  at  the  visitor 
to  the  firm  :  "  Mr.  Jared  Mallory,  I  should 
say  by  the  look  of  him." 

"You  are  right,  Mr.  Matthew  Lindisfarn, 
though  I  can't  say  I  should  have  known  you 
by  the  look  of  you,  if  I  had  not  known  you 
before  !  " 

"  We  were  engaged,  Mr.  Matthew,  in  dis- 
cussing, quite  in  a  friendly  way,  and  without 
prejudice  to  any  ulterior  proceedings  which 
it  may  be  necessary  to  take  in  the  matter — 
without  prejudice,  Mr.  Mallory" — 

"Oh,  quite  so,"  snapped  Mr.  Mallory, 
with  the  rapidity  of  a  monkey  seizing  a  nut. 

"  We  were  engaged  in  discussing  this  mat- 
ter of  the  disputed  succession — not  but  what 
I  am  premature  in  calling  it  so,"  pursued 
Mr.  Slowcome,  as  if  he  were  speaking  against 
time,  and  would  beat  it  out  of  the  field, 
"  but  this  question,  which  may  become  such — 
may  unfor-tu-nate-ly  become  such — respect- 
ing the  Lindisfarn  property." 

"  Quite  so,"  put  in  Mr.  Sligo,  like  a  pistol- 
shot. 

"  And  I  am  come  to  help  you,"  said  Mr. 
Mat,  briskly,  drawing  a  chair  between  Mr. 
Slowcome  and  Mallory. 

"Ay,  ay,  ay,  ay,"  said  Mr.  Slowcome; 
"  Sligo,  Mr.  Matthew  has  come  to  help  us." 

"  More  the  merrier,"  said  Mr.  Mallory. 

"  Perhaps  better  see  member  of  firm  con- 
fidentially. My  room  at  your  service,  Mr. 
Matthew,"  suggested  Mr.  Sligo. 

"  Look  at  that,  Mv.  Slowcome,"  said  Mr. 
Mat,  producing  his  book,  and  utterly  disre- 
garding the  caution  of  Mr.  Sligo. 

"A  remarkably  dirty  volume,"  said  old 
Slow,  taking  it  between  his  finger  and  thumb, 
and  laying  it  gingerly  on  the  desk  before  him. 
"  Have  you  a  duster  there,  Mr.  Sligo?  Be 
so  good  as  to  ring  the  bell." 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


"  Let  me  look  at  it,  ^Ir.  Slowcome  ;  I  am 
not  so  dainty,"  said  Mallory,  stretching  out 
his  hand  towards  the  volume. 

"Nay,  Mr.  Mal-lo-ry,"  returned  Slow- 
come,  waving  him  off  with  an  interposing 
hand  ;  "let  us  keep  our  hands  clean  if  we 
can, — clean  if  we  can,  you  know,  Mis-ter 
Mal-lo-ry.  What  does  the  volume  purport 
to  be,  Mr.  Matthew?" 

*'  It  has  not  purported  anything  yet.  That 
is  what  I  brought  it  here  for,  that  you  might 
see.  But  if  1  am  not  mistaken,  Slowcome, 
that  is  the  missing  register  of  Chewton 
church." 

A  sudden  change,  transitory  as  a  flash  of 
liglitning,  passed  over  Mr.  Mallory's  face, 
and  he  again  stretched  out  his  hand  toward 
the  little  volume,  which  had  by  this  time 
been  duly  divested  of  its  dust  and  cobwebs, 
saying,  as  he  did  so, — 

"Indeed,  Mr.  Matthew;  that  would  be 
most  satisilictory  to  us  all." 

Mr.  Sligo  sprung  forward  to  interpose,  and 
snatch  the  volume  himself.  But  old  Slow 
was  beforehand  with  them  both,  quietly  let- 
ting his  fat  white  hand  fall  upon  the  volume 
as  the  words  passed  Mr.  IMat's  lips. 

"  Dear  me,  dear  me,"  he  said,  without  the 
change  of  a  demi-semi-tone  in  his  voice,  "  and 
where  did  you  obtain  the  volume,  Mr.  Mat- 
thew Lindisiarn  ?  That  is  if  you  have  no 
objection  to  answer  the  question,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  no  objection  in  life,"  said  Mr.  Mat, 
readily  ;  "  I  committed  felony  to  get  it.  At 
least,  so  that  gentleman's  worthy  father  told 
me." 

"  Ay,  ay,  ay,  ay.  Dear  me,  dear  me ;  you 
removed  the  volume  from  the  parish  church 
of  Chewton,  and  Mr.  Mallory,  senior,  who  is, 
I  understand,  the  clerk  of  that  parish,  express- 
ed an  opinion — a  prima  facie  opinion  of  course 
— that  the  removal  of  it  amounted  within 
the  meaning  of  the  statute  to  felony.  Ay, 
ay,  ay,  ay  !  Your  good  father  amuses  his 
leisure  hours  with  the  pleasing  study  of  the 
criminal  law,  Mr.  Mallory?  "  said  Slowcome, 
bowing  to  the  Sillmouth  attorney  with  a  per- 
fection of  bland  courtesy. 

"  Little  study  needed  to  tell  that  stealing  a 
parish-register  is  felony,  I  should  think," 
snarled  Mallory. 

"  Very  true,  ^Mis-ter  !Mal-lo-ry,  very  true 
indeed.  We  will,  however,  examine  the  vol- 
ume, at  all  events.  "\Vc  can  hardly  make  fel- 
ony of  that,  Mr.  Mallory  ;  can  we?  " 


267 

And  thus  saying,  old  Slow  carefully  and 
leisurely  adjusted  his  gold  eyeglasses,  and 
proceeded  to  look  at  the  book,  from  which 
he  had"  not  once  removed  hia  hand,  during 
the  above  conversation. 

"  Most  assuredly  tiiis  is  the  register  of 
births,  deaths,  and  marriages  of  the  parish 
of  Chewton,  ranging  over  all  the  time  with 
which  our  present  business  can  be  concerned, 
Mr.  M^itthew,"  said  he,  after  a  leisurely  in- 
spection. 

Mr.  Mat's  eyes  twinkled,  as  he  said, — 

"  I  knew  poor  Charley  Mellish  could  never 
have  done  anything  wrong  about  it  in  any 
way  "— 

"  No  suggestion  of  the  kind,  ^Ir.  Mat. 
Register  lost,  all  about  it,  no  case,"  inter- 
rupted Mr.  Sligo  precipitately,  and  thereby 
averting  a  storm  of  virtuous  indignation,  that 
was  on  the  point  of  bursting  from  IMr.  Mal- 
ory. 

"  And  where  was  the  mislaid  volume  found, 
Mr.  Matthew? — always  supposing  that  you 
have  no  objection  to  reply  to  the  question," 
said  Slowcome. 

]Mr.  INIat  related  the  scene  in  Chewton 
church  as  compendiously  as  he  could,  not 
omitting  the  old  clerk's  violent  opposition  to 
his  taking  away  the  book,  and  concluded  by 
asking  the  legal  oracle  what  he  thought  about 
it. 

Mr.  Slowcome  had,  while  Mr.  Mat  was  tell- 
ing his  story,  handed  the  important  book  to 
Mr.  Sligo,  with  a  look,  and  the  one  word  "  Sli- 
go," as  he  put  it  into  his  hands.  And  Mr.  Sligo 
had  in  about  a  minute  afterwards,  while  Mr. 
]\Iat  was  still  speaking,  returned  the  volume 
open  to  Mr.  Slowcome,  with  his  forefinger 
pointing  carelessly  to  one  of  the  late  entries  on 
the  page.  Old  Slow  glanced  at  the  passage 
pointed  out  to  him,  while  he  said,  in  answer 
to  Mr.  Mat's  final  question, — 

"Well,  Mr.  Mat,  I  am  bound  in  justice 
to  your  friend  Mr.  Mallory,  senior,  of  Chew- 
ton, to  say  that  I  am  of  opinion  that  the  ab- 
straction of  the  register  does  bear  a  prima  fa- 
cie similarity  to  a  case  of  felony." 

"  Prima  facie  and  lasta  facie,  too,  I  should 
say  !  "cried Mr.  IMallory;  "  now look'ee here, 
Mr.  Slowcome,"  he  continued,  "  this  may 
come  to  be  an  ugly  business,  you  see.  Of 
course  we  cannot  put  up  with  such  a  docu- 
ment as  that  being  left  in  the  power  and  at 
the  discretion  of  our  opponents.  Out  of  the 
question,  no  saying  what  may  have  been  done 


268 

already,  no  oBence."  (Luckily  for  Mr.  Ja- 
rad's  bones,  Mr.  Mat  had  no  conception  of  his 
meaning.)  "  But  look'ee  here,  Mr.  Slow- 
conie,  matters  may  be  arranged  ;  no  wish  to 
press  hardly  on  a  gentleman  much  respected 
in  the  county.  Let  the  register  be  immedi- 
ately sealed  and  returned  to  the  clerk  of 
ChewtoHj  and  we  consent  there  shall  be  no 
further  notice  taken." 

"  That  is  a  very  handsome  offer,  very  hand- 
some and  friendly,  Mr.  Mallory,  indeed  ;  but 
would  it  not,"  and  here  Mr.  Slowcome  paus- 
ed to  savor  a  huge  pinch  of  snuff,  and  care- 
fully iillipped  away  a  grain  or  two  from  his 
immaculate  shirt-frill  before  proceeding, — 
"  would  it  not,  I  was  about  to  observe,  have 
an  awkward  appearance  of  compounding  a 
felony,  Mr.  ^Mallory,  since  we  are  driven  to 
use  such  hard  words?  " 

"I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  gentlemen,  all 
three  of  you,"  cried  Mr.  Mat,  striking  his 
hand  on  Mr.  Slowcome's  table  as  he  spoke, 
"  if  I  have  committed  a  felony,  I'll  be  shot  if 
it  shall  be  for  nothing  !  And  that  register 
shall  be  examined  before  either  it  or  I  leave 
this  office  !  " 

"  We  don't  sTioot  felons  in  this  country, 
Mr.  Mat,"  said  old  Slow,  while  an  earth- 
quaky  sort  ofmovement,  originating  in  the  in- 
side of  him  caused  his  pondei-ous  watch-chain 
and  seals  to  oscillate,  and  indicated  that  old 
Slow  conceived  himself  to  have  perpetrated  a 
joke. 

"  And  very  few  documents  of  any  descrip- 
tion that  ever  find  their  way  into  this  office, 
go  out  again  unexamined  !  "  said  the. younger 
partner,  with  a  hard  look  at  Mr.  IMallory. 

"Very  right,  Sligo !  very  judiciously  ob- 
served indeed  !  Capital  business  maxim  that, 
Mr.  Mallory  !  And  as  for  our  friend  Mr. 
Mat  being  either  shot,  or  t'other  thing,  you 
know,  I  think  I  could  suggest  another  line 
of  defence  ;  I  think  I  could,  with  all  deference 
to  an  authority  doubtless  more  conversant 
with  that  department  of  business  than  our 
house  can  pretend  to  be,"  said  Mr.  Slowcome, 
with  a  most  courteous  bow  to  IMr.  Malloi-y. 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  Slowcome  !  And  what  may 
that  be?  1  should  be  curious  to  hear  it,  1 
confess !  ' ' 

"  "Well !  it  is  true  I  am  but  an  ignoramus 
.as  to  the  practice  of  the  criminal  side  of  the 
court,  Mr.  Mallory  ;  but  my  humble  notion 
is,  that  if  I  were  in  Mr.  Mat's  place,  and 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


either  you  or  your  respected  father  were  to 
say  anything  to  me  of  so  unpleasant  a  nature 
as  felony,  Mr.  Mallory,  I, — speaking  in  the 
character  of  our  excellent  friend  Mr.  Mat, 
you  understand, — I  should  reply  to  either 
you  or  your  respected  father.  Forgery  !  Mr. 
Mal-lo-ry,  Forgery  !  For-ge-ry  !  !  "  cried  Mr. 
Slowcome,  speaking  with  his  accustomed 
slowness,  but  with  an  energy  that  caused  his 
chin  and  his  pigtail  and  his  watch-chain  all 
to  oscillate  in  unison. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean,  Mr. 
Slowcome  !  "  cried  Mallory,  turning  very 
pale  ;  "  but  I  would  advise  you  to  be  very 
carefulof  actionable  words,  Mr.  Slowcome, — 
spoken  before  witnesses,  Mr.  Slowcome  !  '' 

"  Dear  me  !  dear  me!  dear  me  !  To  think 
of  its  being  actionable  to  talk  of  forgery  in 
the  most  abstract,  and  I  may  say  hypotheti- 
cal, sort  of  way  !  See  now  !  I  told  you  that 
I  knew  nothing  about  these  matters  !  But 
it's  as  well  to  be  hung  for  a  sheep  as  a  lamb, 
now  isn't  it,  Mr.  Mallory?  So  we  will  come 
to  the  concrete.  I  say  the  document  you 
submitted  to  me,  purporting  to  be  an  extract 
from  this  register,  has  been  fraudulently  al- 
tered, Mr.  Mallory  !  The  date  has  been 
tampered  with,  Mr.  Mallory!  The  mar- 
riage between  the  late  Julian  Lindisfarn 
and  your  good  sister,  ]Mr.  IMallory,  was  cele- 
brated, as  duly  shown  by  this  register,  not 
before,  but  after  the  birth  of  the  child  now 
wrongfully  called  Julian  Lindisfarn ;  and 
that  child  is  nullius  filius,  which  means, 
strange  as  it  may  seem,  Mr.  Mat,  the  sou  of 
nobody  at  all,  and  therefore  a  fortiori,  as  1 
may  perhaps  be  allowed  to  say,  nobody's 
grandson,  and  in  no  wise  heir  to  an  acre  of 
the  Lindisfarn  estates  !  Nullius  filius,  Mr. 
INIallory  ;  and  the  rights  of  the  Misses  Kath- 
arine and  Margaret  Lindisfarn  are  in-dis-pu- 
ta-ble,  ]\Ir.  Mallory.  That  is  all !  And  a 
very  good  day's  work  you  have  done  this 
morning,  Mr.  Mat !  I  congratulate  you  with 
all  my  heart ;  and  between  ourselves  I  don't 
think  that  Mr.  Mallory  will,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, be  hard  upon  us  about  the  felony 
— under  the  circumstances,  eh,  Mr.  Mal- 
lory?" 

"  Can't  say  indeed,  Mr.  Slowcome  !  We 
shall  see,  we  shall  see,  sir  !  "  said  Mr.  Mal- 
lory, sticking  his  hat  on  over  his  ear,  and 
taking  a  stride  toward  the  door  ;  "  you  shall 
hear  from  me  shortly,  sir  !  " 


LINDISFARN    CHASE, 


"I  think  not!  I  think  not!  "  said  Mr. 
Slowcome,  shaking  his  head,  as  JIi-.  Sligo 
closed  the  door  behind  the  discomfited  foe. 

"  \\"c  sliall  here  no  more  of  them,  sir  !  "  he 
continued,  turning  to  Mr.  Mat ;  "  Ha,  ha, 
ha !  Tantivy,  tantivy  !  very  remarkable 
chance.  Tantivy,  tantivy!"  repeated  the 
old  gentleman,  slowly  as  he  rubbed  his  hands 
over  each  other  softly, — "tantivy,  tantivy! 
very  good,  very  good  indeed  !  " 

^Ir.  Mat  hardly  ■waited  to  hear  the  end  of 
old  Slow's  felicitations,  before,  rushing  out  of 
the  office  as  precipitately  as  he  had  entered 
it,  he  sprung  into  the  saddle,  and  astonished 
Miss  Lucy  by  the  unwonted  style  in  which 
she  was  required  to  get  over  the  ground  be- 
tween Silvcrton  and  the  Chase. 

"  Forgery  !  Forgery  !  Forgery  !  "  he  shout- 
ed in  view-holloa  tones  as  he  rushed  into  the 
drawing-room,  where  the  ladies  of  the  fam- 
ily, including  Lady  Farnleigh,  were  sitting. 

Of  course  the  news  of  the  finding  of  the 
register,  and  of  old  Slow's  decision  respect- 
ing the  facts  resulting  from  its  contents  were 
soon  made  known  to  every  member  of  the 
family,  and  were  welcomed  by  them  with 
rejoicing,  slightly  diversified  in  the  manifes- 
tation of  it  in  accordance  with  the  char- 
acteristics of  the  various  individuals.  The 
only  one  of  the  party  whose  peace  of  mind 
was  in  any  degi-ee  permanently  injured  by 
the  events  which  had  taken  place,  and  the 
erroneous  impressions  arising  from  them, 
was  Miss  Immy  ;  for  the  upsetting  of  the 
foundations  of  her  mind  by  the  statement, 
which  had  with  difficulty  been  made  cred- 
ible to  her,  that  the  Lindisfarn  girls  were 
not  the  heiresses  to  the  Lindisfarn  property, 
was  so  complete  and  irremediable  that  it 
was  found  impracticable  to  convince  her 
that  the  decision  now  once  again  arrived  at 
that  they  were  heii'csses,  was  not  liable  to  be 
again  reversed  to-morrow.  It  is  a  danger- 
ous thing  to  disturb  the  ideas  of  those  who 
have  never  accustomed  their  minds  to  the 
possibility  that  their  certainties  may  turn 
out  to  be  not  certain. 

Kate  nestled  up  to  her  godmother's  side, 
and  whispered,  "I  do  so  hope  that  nobody 
will  have  told  him  of  it,  before  he  comes 
here." 

"  'Oh  !  you  would  like  to  have  the  telling 
of  your  '  him  ' — as  if  there  were  but  one  of 
the  sex  in  the  world — yourself;  would  you  ?  " 
said  Lady  Farnleigh,  in  the  same  whispered 


2G9 

tones.  "  Well,  as  he  is  at  this  moment  prob- 
ably in  the  Petrel  off  the  coast  of  JMoulsca 
Haven,  and  as  the  instant  he  can  getaway 
he  will  come  here  as  fast  as  a  horse's  legs 
can  carry  him,  I  think  you  have  a  fair  chance 
of  being  the  first  teller  of  your  good  news." 

"  If  I  can  only  make  him  understand  liow 
wholly  my  great  joy  at  this  change  is  for  his 
sake,"  said  Kate,  drooping  her  face  over  her 
godmother's  shoulder,  and.  putting  her  lips 
very  close  to  her  ear. 

"  I  am  inclined  to  think,  my  dear,  that 
you  will  not  find  him  obtuse  on  that  subject," 
replied  Lady  Farnleigh. 

Miss  Margaret,  after  having  partaken  with 
the  rest  of  the  family  of  the  getieral  burst 
of  mutual  congratulations  with  which  Mr. 
Mat's  news  had  been  received,  quietly  stole 
away  to  her  own  room  and  locked  herself  in. 
There  throwing  herself  into  a  large  chair, 
she  remained  for  many  minutes  plunged  in 
reflections  which,  it  would  have  been  very 
evident  to  any  eye  that  could  have  watched 
her,  were  not  of  an  altogether  pleasurable 
kind.  There  were  certain  expressions  flitting 
changefully  across  those  lovely  features,  like 
thunder-clouds  across  a  summer  sky,  and  cer- 
tain clinchings  from  time  to  time  of  the  slender, 
rosy-tipped  fingers  of  those  long,  beautifully- 
formed  hands  which  denoted  that  other  feel- 
ings than  those  of  unmixed  satisfaction  and 
rejoicing  were  present  and  busy  within  that 
snowy  bosom.  We  know  that  jMIss  ^larga- 
rct  had  been  shamefully  and  cruelly  treated. 
She  certainly  had  cause  to  feel  anger  and 
bitter  resentment  against  a  certain  person, — 
and  jNIiss  Margaret  was  apt  to  feel  resent- 
ment keenly.  How  fiir  it  would  be  justifia- 
ble to  conclude  that  Madame  de  Renneville's 
lovely  pupil  was  engaged,  during  those  long 
minutes  of  self-absorbed  reflection,  in  debat- 
ing within  herself  what  course  would  secure 
the  best  and  sweetest  vengeance  and  the  se- 
verest retribution  on  the  individual  who  had 
incurred  her  displeasure,  must  be  left  to  the 
consideration  of  the  candid  reader.  Suppos- 
ing it  should  seem  probable  that  such  was  in 
fi\ct  the  case,  we  can  only  discover  the  deci- 
sion on  this  point  arrived  at  in  her  secret 
meditations,  by  observing  and  carefully  piec- 
ing together  her  actions  immediately  reverie 
gave  place  to  action,  and  those  particulars 
of  her  subsequent  conduct  which  yet  remain 
to  be  recorded  in  these  pages. 

Now  what  Miss  Margaret  did  immediately 


270 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


on  rouging  herself  from  her  meditations  and 
her  easy-chair,  was  to  change  the  somewhat 
neglected  attire  which  she  had  adopted,  dur- 
ing the  sackcloth  and  ashes  days  of  disap- 
pointment and  misery  through  which  she  had 
just  been  passing,  for  a  very  carefully  ar- 
ranged and  tasteful  toilette  de  matin.  Miss 
Margaret's  practice  in  the  matter  was  quite 
oriental  and  biblical,  it  may  be  observed. 
The  fact  is,  that  sorrow  manifests  its  evil  in- 
fluence very  differently  in  different  natures. 
In  Miss  Margaret  it  produced  a  singular  ten- 
dency to  slovenliness.  She  was  like  the  cats 
when  they  are  ill,  and  when  under  a  cloud 
took,  as  the  phraseology  of  the  servants' 
hall  has  it,  "no  pride  in  herself." 

She  was  curiously  prompt  in  tnaking  this 
change,  certainly.  Nevertheless,  perhaps 
this  promptitude  may  be  seen  to  have  been 
inspired  by  that  judicious  and  keen  apprecia- 
tion of  men  and  things  by  which  Margaret 
Lindisfarn  was  so  remarkably  distinguished. 

CHAPTER  L. 
ASCADE9  AMBO!— CONCLUSION. 

JrsT  as  Mr.  Mat  was  hurriedly  mounting 
Miss  Lucy  at  Messrs.  Slowcome  and  Sligo's 
door,  the  carriage  of  Mr.  Falconer  drove  up 
the  High  Street  of  Silverton,  on  its  return 
from  Chewton.  As  soon  as  possible  after 
that  triumphant  flight  of  Mr.  Mat  with  his 
prize  in  his  hand  from  the  village  in  the  moor, 
the  worthy  banker  had  taken  his  leave  of 
Mr.  Mallory,  and  had  entered  his  comforta- 
ble carriage,  charging  his  coachman,  as  he 
did  so,  to  make  all  possible  speed  in  return- 
ing to  Silverton.  But  not  only  were  the 
banker's  handsome  pair  of  carriage  horses 
no  match  for  Miss  Lucy,  but  the  road  they 
had  to  traverse  was  some  two  miles  longer. 
And  it  resulted  thence  that  Mr.  Falconer  ar- 
rived in  the  High  Street,  as  has  been  said, 
only  just  as  Mr.  !Mat,  after  his  important 
interview  with  the  lawyers,  was  leaving  it. 
The  banker  caught  sight  of  Mr.  Mat,  as  he 
rode  away  from  the  lawyer's  door,  and  put- 
ting his  head  out  of  the  carriage  window, 
called  to  the  coachman  to  stop  at  Messrs. 
Slowcome  and  Sligo's  office. 

"  I  saw  Mr.  Matthew  Lindisfarn  leave 
your  door  a  minute  ago,  Slowcome,"  said  he, 
making  his  way  into  the  lawyer's  presence 
in  a  much  more  hurried  manner  than  com- 
ported with  Mr.  Bob  Scott's  ideas  of  the  dig- 
nity of  his  principal.     "  Of  course  you  have 


heard  all  about  the  strange  adventure  at 
Chewton.  You  have  seen  the  book,  I  sup- 
pose, that  he  carried  off  in  such  a — I  must 
say — in  a  somewhat  unjustifiable  manner. 
Is  it  a  register  ?  Is  it  the  register  ?  Docs  it 
prove  anything  ?  ' ' 

"  I  never  am  able  to  hear  more  than  one 
question  at  a  time,  Mr.  Falconer,"  said  Slow- 
come, looking  up  very  deliberately  from  a 
letter  he  was  writing,  "  even  when  I  am  not 
interrupted  in  another  occupation.  Yes  !  I 
have  seen  the  book  Mr.  Mat  brought  from 
Chewton.     What  came  next  ?  " 

"  Why,  was  it  the  register  ?  Do  tell  me  all 
about  it,  Slowcome,  come,  as  an  old  friend; 
interested,  too,  you  know,  in  the  matter." 

"  Ay,  ay,  indeed.  Still  interested  in  the 
matter  ?  Dear  me !  But  to  tell  you  all 
about  it  would  really  occupy  a  larger  amount 
of  time  than  I  am  able,  with  due  regard  to 
other  pressing  avocations,  to  devote  to  that 
purpose  at  present, — just  at  present,  you  see, 
Mr.  Falconer." 

"  Only  just  one  word,  Slowcome,"  said  the 
banker,  absolutely  writhing  with  impatience, 
under  the  severe  discipline  with  which  old 
Slow  was  wont  to  chastise  that  failing  : 
"  Did  the  book  Mr.  Mat  found  prove  any- 
thing?" 

"  Oh,  dear  me,  yes!  It  proves  all  the 
marriages  and  deaths  in  Chewton  parish  for 
a  very  considerable  number  of  years,  ]Mr. 
Falconer." 

"  It  was  the  register,  then?  Come,  Slow- 
come, do  '  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag  '  with 
one  word.  Come,  there  is  a  good  fellow. 
You  know  that  I  have  good  reasons  for  wish- 
ing to  know  the  truth.  What  docs  the  reg- 
ister prove  in  the  matter  of  the  Lindisfarn 
succession?  " 

"  Well,  I  have  no  objection  to  state  it  as 
my  opinion — with  all  due  reservations,  you 
will  understand,  Mr.  Falconer — with  all  due 
re — scr — va — ti — ons,  of  course — that  the  reg- 
ister now  fortunately  discovered  and  brought 
forward  in  evidence,  does  very  satisfactorily 
and  indisputably,"  and  old  Slow,  who  had 
risen  from  his  chair,  and  was  standing  with 
his  back  to  his  ofiice  fire,  with  his  hands  un- 
der the  tails  of  his  coat,  made  at  each  dis- 
jointedly  uttered  syllable  of  those  polysylla- 
bic adverbs  a  sort  of  little  bow,  which  caused 
his  coat-tails  and  his  watch-chain  and  his 
pigtail  to  move  in  unison,  like  the  different 
partsof  some  well-regulated  machine, — "  very 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


sa-tis-fac-to-ri-ly  and  iu-dis-pu-ta-bly,  ]Mr. 
Falconer,  establish  the  clear,  and,  consider- 
ing the  a2;e  of  the  other  parties  named  in  the 
entail  and  other  circumstances,  I  think  I  am 
justified  in  eaying,  in-de-fea-si-l)le  right  of 
the  young  ladies  at  the  Chase  to  their  father's 
estates." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  By  George,  Slow- 
come,  could  you  not  have  said  so  in  half  a 
■word?"  cried  tlie  banker,  as  he  hurried  to 
the  door  of  the  room. 

"  No,  I  think  not,  Mr.  Falconer.  I  never 
make  use  of  half-words  considering  entire 
ones  to  be  more  sa-tis-fac-to-ry." 

But  Mr.  Falconer  was  half-way  to  the  hall- 
door  by  the  time  old  Slow  had  got  through 
this  last  adverb,  and  was  hurrying  home  up 
the  High  Street,  before  the  earthquake  that 
began  to  heave  Mr.  Slowcome's  white  waist- 
coat, giving  evidence  of  the  existence  of  hid- 
den laughter  far  down  below  the  surface  of 
the  man,  had  subsided. 

"  Fred,  come  here,"  said  Mr.  Falconer,  as 
he  passed  hurriedly  through  the  outer  office  !  man  who  had  the  use  of  only  one  arm,  and 


271 

"  Dictated  by  me,  of  course,"  rejoined  his 
father,  "  you  make  it  right  with  the  girl,  and 
I  will  undertake  the  squire." 

"  I  am  almost  afraid  it  wont  do,"  replied 
hie  eon;  "it  is  worth  trying  though,  any- 
way.    I'll  try  it." 

"  Not  an  hour  to  lose,  my  boy  ;  and,  Fred," 
he  added,  as  his  son  was  leaving  the  room, 
already  meditating  his  high  emprise,  "  lay 
the  blame  on  me,  as  thick  as  you  like,  you 
know.     That  will  be  your  plan." 

Fred  nodded,  and  hastened  to  his  own  room 
to  prepare  for  marching  on  this  forlorn  hope, 
having  asked  one  of  the  juniors  in  tlie  bank, 
as  he  passed,  to  have  the  kindness  to  order 
his  horse  to  be  saddled  for  him  without  de- 
lay. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  came  down  dressed 
altogether  in  black,  with  his  face  looking  a 
good  deal  paler  than  it  had  been  half  an  hour 
before,  and  with  his  left  arm  in  a  sling. 

Thus  got  up  for  the  occasion,  he  mounted 
his  horse  as  gracefully  as  could  be  done  by  a 


of  the  bank  into  his  private  room  behind  it ; 
"  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

Mr.  Frederick,  who  had  of  late  been  far 
more  regular  in  his  attendance  at  the  bank 
than  had  been  the  case  for  some  time  past, 
rose  somewhat  listlessly  from  his  seat,  and 
followed  his  father  into  his  sanctum. 

"  Shut  the  door,  Fi-ed,"  cried  the  senior, 
hastily ;  "  here's  all  the  fat  in  the  fire  again, 
and  we  shall  burn  our  fingers  at  last,  if  we 


made  the  best  of  his  way  to  the  Chase,  ar- 
riving there  about  an  hour  and  a  half  after 
Mr.  Mat,  and  as  near  as  might  be  about  the 
time  when  Margaret  had  shown  her  admira- 
ble tact  and  knowledge  of  mankind  by  mak- 
ing the  improvement  which  has  been  men- 
tioned in  her  toilet.  She  was,  in  fact,  in  the 
act  of  descending  the  staircase  which  opened 
on  the  front  hall  at  the  Chase  when  our 
friend  Fred  entered  the  house.     No  more  in- 


don't  mind  what  we  are  about.  They  have  ,  evitable  meeting  could  have  been  arranged 
found  a  parish-register  which  proves  that  [  for  them.  The  groom,  who  had  taken  Frcd- 
the  girls  up  at  the  Chase  are  the  rightful  |  crick's  horse  from  him,  had  opened  the  door 
heirs  after  all.  No  mistake.  Old  Slowcome  :  for  him,  and  had  then  gone  away  to  the  sta- 
has  just  told  me;   took  me  half  an  hour  to   Ues,  leaving  him,  as  a  well-known  and  famil- 


get  it  out  of  him." 

"  By  Jove  !  If  you  had  not  sent  that  old 
fool  Gregory  to  spoil  all,  I  should  have  been 
all  right  by  this  time,"  said  the  unreasonable 
young  gentleman. 

"  Yes,  and  if  it  had  turned  up  t'other  way  ? 
A  pretty  job.     But  it's  not  too  late.     If  you 


lar  guest,  to  find  his  own  way  into  the  draw- 
ing-i-oom,  after  the  unceremonious  fashion  of 
the  house.  And  thus  it  happened  that  there 
was  no  servant  present  to  mar  the  privacy  of 
their  interview. 

Fred  did  it  very  well,  certainly.     Hurried- 
ly advancing  two  or  three  rapid  strides  tow- 


are  half  a  fellow,  you  will  be  able  to  put  it :  ard  the  foot  of  the  stair,  where  Margaret 
right  again.  But  sharp's  the  word.  No  i  stood,  magnificent  in  the  accusing  majesty  of 
time  to  be  lost."  her  haughty  attitude,  he  stopped  suddenly  ; 

Freddy  shook  his  ambrosial  curls  with  a  ,  and  made  a  partially  abortive  effort  to  clasp 
very  decided  expression  of  doubt.  "  I  am  his  hands  before  him,  which,  painfully  im- 
afraid  it  wont  do,"  said  he,  "  I  am  afraid  peded,  as  it  evidently  was,  by  the  maimed 
that  game  is  up.  Nothing,  you  know,  cir,  I  condition  of  the  arm  supported  by  its  black 
has  passed  since  my  letter  to  the  squire  with-  silk  sling,  was — or  at  all  events  ought  to 
drawing  from  the  engagement."  I  have  been — exceedingly  touching. 


272 

"  Margaret,"  he  said,  in  tones  rendered 
low  and  liusky  (so  much  bo  indeed  as  to  be 
inaudible  in  the  neighboring  drawing-room) 
by  his  evident  emotion,  —  "my  own,  my 
adored  Margaret,  oh,  tell  me  that  I  have  still 
the  right  to  call  you  so  !  Oh,  Margaret,  if 
you  could  only  know  what  I  have  suffered 
during  these  dreadful,  dreadful  days  !  Again 
and  again  I  have  thought  that  my  reason 
must  have  sunk  under  the  horrible  mental 
torment  I  have  suffered.  It  would,  1  feel 
sure,  have  done  so,  had  I  not  at  length 
forced  my  way  to  you  despite  the  oi'ders  and 
efforts  of  nurses  and  all  of  them.  Thank 
God,  I  can  at  least  see  and  speak  to  you 
once  again  !  " 

"  I  see  that  you  have  hurt  your  arm,  sir," 
said  Margaret,  coldly  and  haughtily;  "did 
it  ever  occur  to  you  that  there  might  be 
worse  torture  than  that  of  an  injured  limb  ? 
You  tell  me  of  your  sufferings.  Did  you 
ever  give  a  thought  to  mine?  " 

"Oh,  Margaret,  is  it  necessary  to  tell 
you,  does  not  your  own  heart  tell  you,  that 
what  has  been  driving  me  mad  has  been  the 
thought  that  you  were  suffering  " — 

"  Oh,  indeed,  Mr.  Falconer?  Your  trou- 
ble on  that  score  might  have  long  since 
ceased  ;  you  made  me  pass  a  very,  very  mis- 
erable hour  ;  but  the  agony  was  soon  over  ; 
you  do  not  suppose  that  I  could  feel  aught 
but  contempt  for  a. man  who  could  treat  a 
girl  as  you  treated  me,  or  consider  it  any- 
thing but  a  matter  for  self-gratulation  that  I 
had  escaped  all  ties  with  one  who  could  be 
capable  of  such  conduct?  " 

"  You  are  unjust  to  me,  Margaret.  Your 
displeasure  is  natural  ;  but  it  renders  you  un- 
just to  me.  Can  you  suppose  that  anything 
save  physical  impossibility," — and  here  he 
glanced  piteously  at  hismaimedarm, — "could 
have  prevented  me  from  keeping  the  appoint- 
ment it  had  been  such  rapture  to  me  to 
make?" 

"  The  post-chaise,  then,  was  not,  as  I  had 
heard,  countermanded  by  your  father's 
clerk?  "  sneered  Margaret. 

"  Assuredly  it  was,"  replied  he,  "  in  con- 
sequence of  the  unfortunate  accident  which 
happened  to  me  as  I  was  on  the  point  of 
hastening  to  the  rendezvous.  It  was  neces- 
sary to  provide  against  your  being  compro- 
mised by  leaving  the  chaise  standing  all  night 
at  the  garden-door.  That  was  the  only  idea 
that  remained  firm  in  my  mind  when    the 


NDISFARN    CHASE. 

agony  of  the  dislocation  took  from  me  all 
power  of  thinking.  Can  you  harbor  resent- 
ment, Margaret,  against  the  victim  of  so 
cruel  a  misfortune?  " 

Cruel  as  the  misfortune  was,  it  must  be 

itted  that  it  was  opportune,  Mr.  Falconer, 

— almost  as  strikingly  so  as  the  first  moment 

at  which  you  are  able  to  get  out  to  bring  me 

the  assurance  of  your  unbroken  affection." 

"  Opportune,  Miss  Lindisfarn?  What  do 
you  mean?"  said  Frederick,  with  a  well- 
feigned  air  of  utter  perplexity. 

"  Simply  this,  Mr.  Falconer,"  replied  Mar- 
garet, with  an  expression  of  withcringscorn, — 
"  simply  this  :  that  the  abandonment  of  your 
proposed  elopement  coincided  with  very  cu- 
rious accuracy  with  the  moment  when  the 
information  in  all  probability  reached  you 
that  I  was  not  entitled  to  any  portion  of  my 
father's  estates  ;  and  that  your  reappearance 
here  follows  instantly  upon  the  discovery 
that  that  information  was  quite  erroneous. 
That  is  all." 

"  Now,  Margaret!  "  said  Freddy  Falconer, 
in  a  tone  of  friendly  remonstrance,  and  not  ap- 
pearing at  all  overwhelmed  by  the  accusa- 
tions of  his  beloved, — "  now,  Margaret,"  he 
said,  stretching  out  both  hands  towardijier, 
the  injured  one,  too,  curiously  enough,  "  is  it 
not  unworthy  of  both  of  us  to  suppose  that 
either  you  or  I  could  be  influenced  in  our 
conduct  by  such  considerations?  Blakistry, 
I  hear,  declares  that  he  has  the  certainty 
that  both  you  and  your  sister  were  aware  of 
the  facts  that  were  supposed  to  oust  you  from 
the  inheritance  of  the  Lindisflxrn  property 
at  the  time  when  you  first  made  me  happy 
by  accepting  the  offer  of  my  hand."  And 
Frederick  looked  at  his  beloved  with  a  very 
peculiar  expression  as  he  spoke  these  words. 
"  Now  the  low-minded  Sillshire  gossips  might 
make  a  very  disagreeable  story  out  of  that. 
But  we  know  each  other  better.  We  know 
that  you  in  first  accepting  my  offer  and  then 
in  consenting  to  an  elopement  before  the  se- 
cret of  your  Cousin  Julian's  being  alive  had 
become  known,  as  well  as  I  in  apparently 
suspending  my  hope  of  calling  you  mine  for 
a  short  interval, — ivc  know,  I  say,  that  nei- 
ther one  nor  the  other  of  us  was  influenced  for 
a  moment  by  any  unworthy  considerations? 
We  know,  each  that  the  other  is  incapable 
of  any  such  baseness.  The  world,  my  Mar- 
garet, the  vulgar  outside  world,  may  talk  of 
these  tilings  ;    but  we  know  each  other,     i 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


might  have  told  you  that  I  have  induced  my 
father  to  give  Slowcome  directions  to  make 
very  exceptionally  liberal  arrangements  in 
respect  to  pin-money.  But  it  never  occurred 
to  me  to  mention  it,  knowing  how  little  space 
any  such  matters  would  occupy  in  your 
thouglits." 

"  Little,  indeed,  Frederick,"  said  Marga- 
ret, whose  dark  liquid  eyes  had  begun,  dur- 
ing the  course  of  her  Frederick's  last  speech, 
to  turn  on  a  service  of  glances  of  a  very  dif- 
ferent quality  from  those  with  which  she  was 
regarding  him  at  the  commencement, — "  lit- 
tle, indeed,  would  any  such  matters  occupy 
my  mind,  except  as  affording  a  proof  of  your 
thoughtful  love.  Ah,  Frederick,  you  know 
not,  may  you  never  know,  what  I  have  had 
to  suiFer  since  I  doubted  it !  " 

"  But  you  doubt  it  no  more,  my  Marga- 
ret? "  he  cried,  advancing  one  stride  toward 
hei. 

"  To  think  of  your  having  been  so  watch- 
ful over  my  future  comfort,  as  to  have  per- 
suaded your  father  to  have  the  papers  made 
differently.  I  must  make  that  odious  old 
Slowcome  explain  it  all  to  me,  that  I  may  be 
able  to  say  in  days  to  come,  Fcederick, '  This 
T  owe  to  the  loving  thought  that  remained 
true  to  me  during  the  dark  days.'  May  I 
ask  old  Slowcome  to  explain  it  to  me  ?  " 

"  He  shall,  my  own  Margaret.  May  I  not 
once  more  call  you  so?  It  shall  be  explained 
to  you,  my  Margaret,"  answered  Frederick, 
who  perceived  that  he  was  pardoned  and  re- 
stored to  his  former  position,  but  that  the 
little  peace-offering  he  had  mentioned  must 
be  really  and  absolutely  paid,  and  not  used 
only  as  dust  to  be  thrown  in  the  magnificeM 
eyes  of  his  Margaret. 

"  Ah,  Frederick,"  she  rejoined,  allowing 
him  to  take  her  hand  between  both  his, 
which  he  did  with  no  impediment,  appar- 
ently, from  the  maimed  condition  of  one  of 
his  arms, — "  ah,  Frederick,  these  have  been 
very  painful  days,  a  dark  and  miserable  time  ! 
And  we  may  be  very  sure  that  unkind  and 
envious  eyes  have  been  watching  us,  and  will 
not  be  slow  to  draw  their  own  malicious 
conclusions,  and  make  their  own  odious  in- 
sinuations." 

"  But  what  need  we  care,  dearest,  for  all 
the  malicious  tongues  in  the  world,  when  we 
are  mutually  conscious  of  each  other's  truth 
and  affection  ?  Are  we  not  all  the  world  to 
each  other,  Margaret?  " 

18 


273 

"  And  that  must  be  our  strong  and  suffi- 
cient defence  against  all  calumny  ;  for  you 
may  depend  on  it  we  shall  have  to  endure  it. 
People  are  so  envious,  dear,"  she  said,  look- 
ing up  at  his  handsome  face  and  figure  with 
all  the  pride  of  proprietorship. 

"  And  well  may  all  Sillshire  be  envious  of 
me,  my  Margaret,"  murmured  the  gentleman, 
duly  following  lead. 

So  Margaret  and  Frederick  understood  one 
another  very  satisfactorily  and  completely, 
and,  bold  in  their  mutual  support,  advanced 
toward  the  drawing-room  door. 

"Take  that  handkerchief  off  your  arm, 
Frederick  ;  I  am  sure  you  can  do  without  it," 
whispered  Margaret,  as  they  were  on  the 
point  of  entering;  and  Frederick  did  as  he 
was  bid. 

I  do  not  know  that  there  is  much  more  to 
be  added  to  this  chronicle  of  Lindisfarn. 
The  most  remarkable  fact  to  be  told  in  addi- 
tion to  what  ha&  been  written,  is  that  all  four 
of  the  principal  actors  on  the  scene  are  yet 
alive,  though  it  is  forty  years — ay,  more  than 
forty-one  years  by  the  time  the  lines  will 
meet  the  reader 's  eye — since  what  has  been 
related  took  place. 

Admiral  EUingham,  K.  C.  B.,  full  admiral 
of  the  red,  is  a  year  or  two  on  the  wrong  side 
of  seventy  ;  but  he  can  still  walk  up  through 
his  own  woods  to  the  Lindisfarn  Stone  ;  and 
is  altogether  a  younger  man  than  Frederick' 
Falconer,  Esq.,  who,  though  a  year  or  two 
on  the  right  side  of  seventy,  begins  to  find 
his  daily  drive  from  Belgravia  into  the  city 
rather  too  much  for  him,  though  made  in  the 
most  luxurious  of  broughams.  Ilis  regular- 
ity in  making  this  journey  is  not  attributable, 
however,  at  all  events,  to  any  unsatisfactory 
state  of  things  at  home,  due  to  the  presence 
or  conduct  in  his  home  of  Mrs.  Frederick 
Falconer  ;  for  she  is  not  resident  there.  One 
child,  a  daughter,  was  born  to  them  after  a 
year  of  marriage.  She  is  still  single  and  is 
the  natural  heir  to  the  great  wealth  of  her 
father.  Kate  is  the  happy  mother  of  a  much 
larger  family,  and  when  all  of  them,  with 
their  respective  wives  and  husbands  and  chil- 
dren, are  collected  at  Lindisfarn,  as  is  some- 
times the  case  at  Christmas,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  find  in  all  merry  England,  a  finer, 
happier,  merrier,  or  handsomer  family  party. 

The  loss  of  the  Saucij  Salhj  was  eventually 
the  making  of  Iliram  Pendleton,  and  conse- 
quently of  his   brave  and  faithful  wife,  in- 


274 

stead  of  being  their  ruin.  A  good  deal  of 
admiration  had  been  excited  in  the  neighbor- 
hood by  the  gallant  manner  in  ■which  he  had 
rescued  his  two  passengers,  Barbara  Mallory 
and  her  child,  from  a  watery  grave,  at  the 
imminent  risk  of  his  own  life  ;  and  partly 
by  the  assistance  of  others,  but  mainly  by 
the  exertions  and  influence  of  Captain  EUing- 
ham,  he  was  put  into  possession  of  the  neat- 
est fishing-smack  on  all  the  Sillshire  coast, 
on  the  condition — most  loyally  observed — 
that  she  was  to  be  used  for  fishing  in  the 
most  literal  sense  of  the  term. 

Julian  Mallory  was  also  indebted  to  Cap- 
tain Ellingham  for  his  first  start  and  subse- 
quent protection  in  a  career  which  has  given 
him  his  epaulets  in  the  coast-guard  service, 
and  enabled  him  to  offer  a  home  to  his  mother 
during  her  declining  years  ;  old  Mallory  died 
very  shortly  after  the  events  above  related  ; 
and  Barbara  lived  for  some  years,  the  first  of 
them  with  her  boy,  and  the  latter  of  them 
all  alone,  in  the  large  stone  house  at  Chew- 
ton,  which  her  father  left  to  her,  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  her  brother  Jared,  and  to  the 
breach  of  all  communication  between  the 
brother  and  sister. 

I  do  not  know  whether  it  may  occur  to  any 
readers  of  the  above  iHstory  that  any  case 
has  been  made  out  for  an  exemplary  distri- 
bution of  poetical  justice.  If  so,  I  am  afraid 
'that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  satisfy  them  within 
the  limits  of  the  few  words  which  I  have  yet 
space  to  write. 

Poetical  justice  often  requires  at  least  a 
volume  or  two  for  the  due  setting  forth  of  it. 


LINDISFARN    CHASE. 


And  perhaps  if  I  had  an  opportunity  of  re- 
lating even  compendiously  some  of  the  life 
experiences  of  the  four  principal  personages 
of  our  story,  it  would  be  found  that  all  the 
antecedents  which  have  been  either  related 
or  indicated  in  the  foregoing  pages  bore  fruit 
very  accurately  after  their  own,  and  not  after 
any  other,  kind.  Stones  thrown  into  the  air 
always  fall  down  again  according  to  the  laws 
of  gravity,  and  not  sometimes  only. 

As  for  any  more  immediate  and  dramatic 
action  of  Nemesis,  I  am  afraid  there  is  little 
to  be  said.  Each  lady  of  our  principal  dra- 
matis personce  married  thq  man  whom  she 
wished  to  marry,  and  each  gentleman  had 
the  lady  of  his  choice.  Assuredly  no  one  of 
the  four  would  have  changed  lots  with  the 
other.  It  is  true  the  squire  marked  his  sense 
of  the  difference  of  the  way  in  which  his  two 
daughters  had  conducted  themselves  in  the 
very  peculiar  and  difficult  circumstances  in 
which  they  had  been  placed,  by  so  arranging 
matters  that  the  old  house  and  the  old  acres 
fell  wholly  and  absolutely  to  the  share  of 
Kate,  a  charge  on  them,  equal  to  half  their 
money  value,  being  secured  to  Margaret. 
But  although  the  old  banker  had  originally 
dreamed  other  dreams,  it  was  not  long  be- 
fore Frederick  and  his  wife  had  both  learned 
to  think  that  the  arrangement  made  was 
such  as  they  would  have  chosen.  So  there 
was  no  Nemesis  in  that. 

But  then  does  she  not — that  sly  and  subtle 
Nemesis — habitually  find  the  tools  for  her 
work  rather  in  our  choices  gratified  than  in 
our  choices  frustrated? 


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119.  The  Discipline  of  Life 

120.  Thirty  Years  Since.     By  James 

121.  Mary  Barton.     By  Mrs.  Gaskell 

122.  The  Great  Hoggarty  Diamond.     By  Thackeray 

123.  The  Forgery.     By  James 

124.  The  Midnight  Sun.     By  Miss 

125.  126.  The  Ca.xtons.  By  Bulwer 
127.  Mordaunt  Hall.  By  Sirs.  JIar; 
12S.  My  Uncle  the  Curate 


•  Olive 


178. 

179.  Castle  Avon.     By  Mrs.  Marsh 

180.  Agnes  Sorel.     By  James 

ISl.  Agatha's  Husband.     By  the  Author  of  ' 

182.  Villette.     By  Currer  Bell 

183.  Lover's  Stratagem.     By  Miss  Carlen 

184.  Clouded  Happiness.     By  Countess  D'Orsay 

185.  Charles  Auchester.     A  Memorial 

180.  Lady  Lee's  Widowhood 


187.  Dodd  Family  Abroad.     By  Lever 1  25 

188.  Sir  Jasper  Care-w.     By  Lever 75 

189.  Quiet  Heart 25 

190.  Aubrey.     By  Mrs.  Mar.ih 75 

191.  Ticonderoga.     By  James 50 

192.  Hard  Times.     By  Dickens 50 

193.  The  Young  Husband.     By  Mrs.  Grey 50 

194.  The  Mother's  Recompense.    By  Grace  Aguilar.  75 

195.  Avillion,  and  other  Tales.     By  the  Author  of 
"  Olive,"  &c 1  25 

196.  North  and  South.     By  Mrs.  Gaskell 50 

197.  Country  Neighborhood.     By  Miss  Dupuy 50 

198.  Constance  Herbert.     By  Miss  Jewsbury 50 

199.  The  Heiress  of  Haughton.     By  Mrs.  Marsh 50 

25  1  200.  The  Old  Dominion.     By  James 50 

75  !  201.  John  Halifax.     By  the  Author  of  "Olive,"  &c.  75 

50    202.  Evelyn  JIarston.     By  Mrs.  Marsh 50 

50  I  203.  Fortunes  of  Glencore.     By  Lever £0 

129.  The  Woodman.     By  James 75  |  204.  'Leonora  d'Orco.     By  James 50 

130.  The  Green  Hand.     A  "  Short  Yarn" 75  j  205.  Nothing  New.     By  Miss  Mulock 50 

131.  Sidonia  the  Sorceress.     By  Meinhold 1  00  ^  2  ;6.  The  Rose  of  Ashurst.     By  Mrs.  Marsh 50 

132.  Shirley.     By  Currer  Bell 1  00    207.  The  Athelings.     By  Mrs.  Oliphant 75 

133.  The  Ogilvies 50 


134.  Constance  Lyndsay.     By  G.  C.  H 50 

135.  Sir  Edward  Graham.     By  Miss  Sinclair 1  00 

136.  Hands  not  Hearts.     By  Miss  Wilkinson 50 

137.  The  Wilmingtons.     By  Mrs.  Marsh 50 

138.  Ned  Allen.     By  D.  Hannay 50 

139.  Night  and  Morning.     By  Bulwer 75 

140.  The  Maid  of  Orleans; 75 

141.  Antonina.     By  Wilklo  Collins 50 

142.  Zanoni.     By  Bulwer 50 

143.  Reginald  Hastings.     By  Warburton 50 

144.  Pride  and  Irresolution 50 

145.  The  Old  Oak  Chest.     By  James 50 

146.  Julia  Howard.     By  Mrs.  Martin  Bell 50 

147.  Adelaide  Lindsay.     Edited  by  Mrs.  Marsh 50 

148.  Petticoat  Government.     By  Mrs.  Trollope 50 

149.  The  Luttrells.     By  F.  Williams 50 

150.  Singleton  Fontenoy,  R.N.     By  H.innay 50 

151.  Olive.     By  the  Author  of  "  The  Ogilvies" 50 

152.  Henry  Sraeaton.     By  James 50 

153.  Time,  the  Avenger.     By  Mr.?.  Marsh 50 

154.  The  Commissioner.     By  James 1  00 

155.  The  Wife's  Sister.     By  Mrs.  Ilubback 50 


156.  The  Gold  Worshipers 

157.  The  Daughter  of  Night.     By  Fullom 

158.  Stuart  of  Dunleath.     By  Hon.  Caroline  Norton. 

159.  Arthur  Conway.     By  Captain  E.  H.  Milman  . . 

160.  The  Fate.     By  James 

161.  The  Lady  and  the  Priest.     By  Mrs.  Maberly. . . 

162.  Aims  and  Obstacles.     By  James 

16.3.  The  Tutor's 


164.  Florence  Sackville.     By  Jlrs.  Burbuiy 

165.  Ravenscliflfe.     By  Mrs.  Marsh 

106.  Maurice  Tiernay.     By  Lever 

167.  The  Head  of  the  Family.     By  the  Author  of 


168.  Darien.     By  Warburton 50 

169.  Falkenburg "^5 

170.  The  Daltons.     By  Lever 1  50 

ITl.  Ivar;  or.  The  Skjuts-Boy.     By  Miss  Carlen...  50 

172.  Pequinillo.     By  James 50 

173.  Anna  Hammer.     By  Temme 50 

174.  A  Lire  of  Vicissitudes.     By  James 5(1 

17.5.  Henry  Esmond.     By  Thackeray 75 

176,  177.  My  Novel.     By  Bulwer 1  50 


208.  Scenes  of  Clerical  Life 75 

209.  My  Lady  Ludlow.     By  Mrs.  Gaskell 25 

210.  211.  Gerald  Fitzgerald.     By  Lever 50 

212.  A  Life  for  a  Life.     By  Jliss  Mulock .' .  50 

213.  Sword  and   Gown.     By  the  Author  of  "Guy 

Livingstone" 25 

214.  Misrepresentation.     By  Anna  H.  Drury 1  00 

215.  The  Mill  on  the  Floss.   By  the  Author  of ' '  Adam 

Bede" 75 

216.  One  of  Them.    By  Lever 75 

217.  A  Day's  Ride.     By  Lever 50 

218.  Notice  to  Quit.    By  Wills 50 

219.  A  Str.ange  Story 1  00 

220.  The  Struggles  of  Brown,  Jones,  and  Robinson. 

By  Trollope 50 

221.  Abel  Dr.ike's  Wife.     By  John  Saunders 75 

222.  Olive   Blake's  Good  Work.     By  John   Cordy 

Jeaffreson 75 

223.  The  Professor's  Lady 25 

224.  Mistress  and  Maid.    A  Household  Story.    By 

Miss  Mulock 50 

225.  Aurora  Floyd.     By  M.  E.  Braddon 75 

226.  Barrington.     By  Lever 75 

227.  Sylvia's  Lovers.     By  Mrs.  Gaskell 75 

228.  A  First  Friendship 50 

229.  A  Dark  Night's  Work.     By  Mra.  Gaskell 50 

230.  Mrs.  Lirriper's  Lodgings 25 

231.  St.  Olave's 75 

232.  A  Point  of  Honor 50 

233.  Live  it  Down.    Ey  Jeaflfreson 1  00 

234.  Martin  Pole.     By  Saunders 50 

235.  Mary  Lyndsay.     By  Lady  Ponsonby 50 

1Z&.  Eleanor's  Victoiy-     By  M.  E.  Braddon 75 

237.  Rachel  Ray.     By  Trollope 50 

238.  John  Marchmont's  Legacy.     By  M.  E.  Braddon.  75 

239.  Annis  Warleigh's  Fortunes.     By  Holme  Lee. . .  75 

240.  The  Wife's  Evidence.     By  Wills 50 

241.  Barbara's  History.    By  Amelia  B.  Edwards 75 

242.  Cousin  Phillis 25 

243.  What  will  he  do  with  It?    By  Bulwer 1  50 

244.  The  Ladder  of  Life.    By  Amelia  B.  Edwards. . .  50 

245.  Denis  Drv.al.     By  Thackeray 50 

246.  Maurice  Dering.    By  the  Author  of  "  Guy  Liv- 

ingstone"    50 

247.  Not  Dead  Yet.     By  Jeaffreson 


IM500155 


j; 


